


Forged by Wandering

by thecopperriver



Series: Forgefire [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Fíli, Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Durincest, Explicit Sexual Content, Funerals, Fíli and Kíli Live, M/M, Partial Fix-It, Scars, Sibling Incest, Thorin Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 117,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecopperriver/pseuds/thecopperriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left behind on a dock in Laketown, Fili and Kili arrive at the mountain to find that Smaug was only the beginning.  How will they cope with losing their kin to gold?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laketown

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to LittlestSecret, monkeydra, and Sabishiioni for listening and being sounding boards for this fic. Your feedback has been so helpful in solidifying this story for me. I hope to post a chapter every week or so, but this story is a monster and I'm not done yet XD 
> 
> Translations for Khuzdul words will appear if you hover over the text. Most translations come with many thanks to [The Dwarrow Scholar](https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com/khuzdul/documents-dictionaries/) for their comprehensive dictionary. All mistakes and mistranslations are my own.

An exhausted and bedraggled Fíli turned to help haul Kíli onto the shore of the lake before they both collapsed in a tired huddle, a pool of water spreading underneath from their soaked layers.  Bofur and Óin sprawled nearby, equally wet and cold. The two brothers remained silent and still, almost too numb to think as they watched the burning remains of Laketown. Fíli couldn’t believe how quickly everything had happened, how much worse it had gotten. He’d thought that watching Kíli so close to death, having to rely on an elf to heal his beloved brother, an elf he still wasn’t sure he trusted; he’d thought _that_ would be the worst fear he’d ever experience. But that was before the dragon...

__________

_It wasn’t long after Kíli’s healing that Tauriel turned to the rest of the dwarves and apologized, but now that she’d seen to his wound she must pursue Legolas._

_“The prince is an able fighter, but I am concerned that a full pack of orcs will be more than he can handle. As Captain of the Guard, it is my duty to aid him.” She turned to Fíli then. “I hope your brother makes a full recovery. I have done what I can for him, but he must return the rest of the way himself. He has a bright spirit, I am sure Kíli will recover quickly.” After laying a final kiss on the prone dwarf’s brow she darted out the door and away._

_Fíli barely processed her departure; too focussed on watching Kíli’s face as his brother dozed restlessly. He still seemed to be caught in some fevered dream, his eyelids flickering as he watched something only he could see. Fíli had felt his heart break when Kíli had reached out during the healing asking if ‘she’ could ever have loved him. He’s not sure if Kíli had been speaking of Tauriel or someone else in his delirium, but the despair in his voice was painful to hear._

_The crown prince was aware that Kíli had not always been treated well as the ‘spare’ Durin rather than the heir. Both had received scorn over the years for being Thorin’s sister-sons and not direct heirs. Some believed that since their father was not a Longbeard, that their claim came from their mother instead, they should not even be in the line of succession. Thorin should marry and have his own children to carry on the line. Thorin had scoffed and declared Fíli would be heir even if he_ had _his own children, but it did not stop the whispers. It was Kíli who bore the brunt of it though._

_Where Fíli spent much of his time in town learning the forge and his duties as heir, Kíli took it upon himself to provide for their small family. He had learned to hunt, forage, and other skills that however necessary were not respected by dwarves who had grown up under the mountain. To them, Kíli spent altogether too much time at tasks that were not ‘proper’ for a dwarf. A son of Durin’s line should spend his time crafting in metal and stone, not working with wood or leather. He_ also _spent entirely too much time in the forest rather than in the few halls they had managed to carve from the mountain. Fíli had watched the growing desperation which led their people to cling to their cultural values and traditions more and more since the dragon, heard in every whisper behind his brother's back and seen in every disapproving glance. Even though their children were born in exile as Kíli and Fíli had been, many of them also picked up on this attitude and avoided Kíli, lest his ‘wildness’ prove contagious. His few friends aside from Fíli himself had been Firebeard or Blacklock children, and the odd disreputable Longbeard._

_Kíli did his best to shrug off his isolation, but Fíli could see his hurt. Thorin abandoning him in Laketown,_ rejecting _him in front of the crowds gathered to witness their departure? Fíli had seen the last of his brother’s reserves of strength crumble. No matter Thorin’s pleading for him to stay with the Company, he could think of no better place than by Kíli’s side. He had been turned away despite the sacrifice made to save them from the elves and orcs. The blond saw his brother as a hero for his actions, but Thorin dared to treat him as a burden. A careless dwarfling. He had only managed to force down his burning rage at his uncle’s actions when Kíli had almost collapsed. It was no wonder the brunet was looking for someone to love him._

_It was this thought which prompted Fíli to lean forward and brush a chaste kiss across his brother’s brow. He couldn’t help but sigh a breath of relief that it was already cooler and less clammy. Sitting back up, he saw Kíli’s eyelids flicker again, but assumed it to just be another dream until he was looking into confused hazel eyes._

_“Fíli?” Kíli’s voice sounded hoarse. “I thought... Am I dead?”_

_The blond’s heart seized at the thought. His brother had been by his side since he was only a child, he could scarcely remember a time before Kíli. He didn’t want to imagine what life would be like if he lost him._

_Despite the fear choking him, Fíli managed a response. “No, brother. Tauriel managed to heal you.”_

_“But I thought I saw Lady Kaminzabdûna [1]; that I was in the Halls...”_

_“You were fevered from the poison, nadad [2]. It was only a dream.” Fíli wasn’t sure that was true, but he wanted nothing more than to reassure his brother. Pretending it was all a dream was a comfort to himself as well, that Kíli hadn’t been so close to death as to see the wife of their Maker._

_“I wanted to stay; it felt so warm and safe there in her arms. But she told me it was not yet my time; that I had more to do.” Kíli looked beseechingly at his elder brother. “What more is there to do? Thorin doesn’t want me at the mountain...” he trailed off as Fíli felt his heart break again. Kíli_ never _expressed his fears as openly as this, struggled not to appear so vulnerable. From the corner of his eye he saw Bofur and Óin trying to occupy themselves and give the brothers some privacy._

_“There’s so much to do, nadadith [3]. I’ll always need you by my side. How am I supposed to be a king if you’re not there to support me? And of course Thorin wants you there,” Fíli once again tried to reassure him, despite the doubts clawing at his own chest. “You heard what he said. He asked for you to join him once you’re healed.”_

_“Why did he only tell me when we were about to depart? He was going to leave me all alone.”_

_Fíli sighed in defeat as the injured brunet voiced the questions which had been lingering since the skiff pulled away from the docks. “I don’t know, Kíli,” he admitted, smoothing his brother’s sweat soaked hair off his face. “For now though, you just focus on getting well. You can ask him once we rejoin the rest of the Company.”_

_Kíli exhaled gently as his eyes drifted shut again. “Stay with me until then, Fí?”_

_“Always, nadad.” The blond stood steady next to Kíli for long minutes as he drifted back to sleep. Watching the regular rise and fall of his chest served to reassure Fíli that his brother was going to recover. His breath was no longer rasping and halted, and there was already more colour back in his cheeks. Best of all, his eyes had been clear rather than clouded with the sickly film which had formed. He almost fell into a doze himself until he felt a presence near his elbow. Sigrid was obviously doing her best not to disturb him, but in her attempts to right the bench at his back she drew his attention._

_Once roused from his single minded focus on the wounded archer, Fíli finally registered the wreckage the orcs had left behind. Almost everything in the small house had been overturned, there were shards of broken pottery scattered everywhere, and here and there the stars were visible through the roof. The odd orc corpse lay strewn about, and bloodstains showed where Bofur and Óin had already removed others. The air was redolent with a mix of orc stench, spilled blood, and crushed herbs from bunches hanging in the rafters. The heir could not help but wince; this was poor payment for a family who had been the only ones to offer shelter to Kíli, however hesitant. With some reluctance he released Kíli’s hand and bent to help Sigrid with the bench._

_“It’s alright, Master Fíli, I can manage,” she protested but he disregarded her words and easily heaved the bench back upright. He smiled gently at the young woman as he grabbed the cushion, brushing it off before replacing it._

_“It is no trouble, Miss. Please, just call me Fíli. I would be a poor guest if I did not assist in straightening your home again. I fear it was because you aided us that the orcs even thought to come here.” It was one more fault to lie at Thorin’s feet. The King knew that an orc pack was hunting them, and yet he spared no thought for those who had helped them in their quest. Fíli shuddered to think of what would have happened to Kíli if he had been left alone as Thorin originally intended. One more question to ask when they finally arrived at the mountain. Rather than dwell further on such questions, he moved on to righting the heavy sideboard as Sigrid picked up shards of pottery. “Are you injured at all?”_

_“No, Ma-Fíli. Thank you for asking, I only have a few bruises.”_

_Fíli nodded and turned back to setting the room to rights. He did his best to shift all the larger or heavier items back into place so Sigrid could take care of the smaller things._

_“Fíli, let me help you! That’s far too heavy for to lift on your own,” Sigrid tried to protest as he bent to right the large cast iron cooking pot and its stand in front of the fire._

_He let out a grunt of effort at the weight, but did not pause. “It is manageable, Miss Sigrid. I work in the forge alongside my uncle; I am accustomed to lifting heavy loads.” Fíli grinned at her. “Do not mistake my stature to mean a lack of strength. Dwarves are of the mountains.”_

_The young woman blushed with embarrassment. “I did not mean to imply you were incapable!”_

_“It is fine, I know you intended no insult,” suddenly he became more somber. “It has been too long since dwarves lived nearby. Your people have forgotten our skills.”_

_Sigrid seemed not to know how to reply to that and the conversation lapsed. Fíli paused for a moment to study the house. It already appeared to be in much better condition. Bofur and Óin had finished removing the bodies of the orcs, after which Bofur had drawn Tilda into a bit of a game of who could find the most unbroken pottery. Óin had moved into the kitchen area to prepare something, but the blond could not tell if it was intended to be food or medicine. Bain was on the roof doing his best to patch the holes. It was cold on the lake, and likely to snow any day._

_Fíli’s attention was instantly drawn back to the makeshift pallet on the table as his brother stirred once again._

_“Kíli? How are you feeling?”_

_Kíli held off on his reply until he took the time to shift and assess his condition. “I am much improved, nadad.” The blond took a lurching step forwards to halt his brother’s movements, but was too slow to prevent him from sliding to perch on the edge of the table. He let out a tiny sigh of relief when the brunet did not attempt to stand or move further. Despite the fact that the archer was clearly recovering, Fíli could not so quickly dislodge the knot of fear that had taken hold the instant Kíli had been struck down. He finished his steps forward to stand by Kíli’s side and provide support should he require it._

_Kíli’s movements had drawn the attention of the others in the small house. Bofur nodded solemnly at the brothers with a relieved smile before turning back to Tilda. Óin poured something from the pot he was tending into a mug before approaching._

_“You’re stronger than I thought, laddie,” Óin said with his usual volume, passing Kíli the steaming mug. “Even with elvish healing, I had reckoned on you being out a few more days. That arrow that struck you down was no ordinary weapon.” The healer gave Kíli a hearty pat on the back. “Drink up; we could all use something hot.”_

_Fíli followed Óin back to the kitchen alcove to retrieve his own mug of soup, relieved the old healer had not mentioned the qualities of the arrow before his brother began to recover. Food in hand, the small home settled into a new feeling of peace. Curled against his brother’s side, Fíli had begun to think of sleep when he felt them. The tremors. At first they were easily discounted, light and passing quickly. When one of the stronger ones hit, he got up and checked the window, looking out towards Erebor. Nothing was visible aside from the mountain’s faint outline, lit by the moon; but the lack of visible danger couldn’t dispel the foreboding. When he met Kíli’s eyes, he knew the other felt the same way. By unspoken agreement Fíli helped Kíli over to a bench near the window. The brothers would keep watch that night, no need to alarm the others._

____________

_Fíli had allowed himself to fall into a light sleep while Kíli’s keen eyes were alert and focussed on the mountain. He had been roughly shaken out of it some hours later; his brother’s hand on his shoulder and his voice in his ear._

_“Fí,” he had not heard that note of terror in Kíli’s voice since they were dwarflings. “Fí, Smaug is coming. We have to get them out of here.”_

_The heir snapped instantly awake. His first brief thought was for what had happened to the Company, but he quickly pushed that away in favour of more immediate concerns._

_“Bofur, Óin,” the prince snapped out, taking charge of the situation. Both had been asleep, but he only allowed a moment’s pause for them to wake. “The dragon has risen. We must get Bard’s family to safety and evacuate as much of Esgaroth as possible.”_

_Bard’s children had all woken with Fíli’s commanding voice. Tilda began crying quietly into Sigrid’s skirts that the hanging threat of the dragon was coming due, but Bain had a differing concern._

_“But Da! They arrested him tonight!”_

_“What? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Bofur demanded in confusion. “We would have done our best to get him freed.”_

_Bain shrugged helplessly, slumping back onto the bed with his face buried in his hands. “It all got so confused. Da was going to take the Black Arrow to the windlance in case the other dwarves woke the dragon, but some of the guards were after him. He gave me the Arrow before they caught up and I hid it. I was going to tell you, but then Kíli was sick and the orcs were attacking and… Whenever this has happened before Da always manages to talk his way out in a day or two; but we don’t have time now!”_

_Fíli wanted to take the time to comfort him, but the way Kíli’s gaze remained locked out the window kept him mindful of the incoming threat. Rather than offer reassurance, he gave orders. “Sigrid, you should take Tilda and rouse as many of your neighbours as you can quickly. Tell them to pass on word of Smaug and that everyone needs to get out. Stay close to water. Óin, Kíli, accompany them and keep them safe._

_“Bain, do you remember where you hid the Arrow?” When the boy nodded firmly, he continued, “good, go retrieve it. Meet at the Master’s house.” Bain took off at a dead run; and Fíli could hear him shouting warnings about the dragon as he went._

_“Bofur, you and I are going to free Bard. We will try explaining the situation first, but we may have to use force.”_

_“Ah, lad, you know I’m always up for a good brawl,” the miner stood with the axe he’d procured at the ready. Fíli armed himself as well; and it was not until he turned to leave that he realized not everyone had complied with his orders. Sigrid, Tilda, and Óin stood awkwardly by the open door waiting on Kíli who had adopted a stubbornly determined stance._

_“Kíli, there’s no time! You must leave with Óin and the girls,” Fíli’s commands took on a frantic edge at the thought of the archer coming to further injury._

_“No, I will not. I am coming with you,” his brother’s voice was as stubborn as his posture._

_“No, Kíli, you do not yet have the strength!” Fíli protested._

_His brother met his eyes steadily. “For this I do,” his resolve was firm in his voice. “For this I_ must _. Fí, Bard is the only one who knows how to use that windlance. If we do not free him, this whole town will be destroyed and_ our line _will bear the fault. You will need my help.”_

_The heir was shaken by the clarity of this simple statement. But he was correct; they must free Bard at any cost._

_Choking on a sob, Fíli pulled the archer into a side-armed hug, pivoting to rest their foreheads together. “Promise me you’ll be cautious, Kí.”_

_“I promise. No guard is going to surprise me_ this _time,” Kíli retorted with a grin. As he moved to collect his bow and sword, Fíli noticed that Óin had departed and Bofur turned away, fiddling with his axe. The blond was thankful for the consideration although he wished to have more time. There was a good chance none of them would survive the dragon’s wrath._

_“From how quickly Smaug appears to be approaching, I would estimate we have somewhat less than two hours,” Kíli reported as he strode to the doorway. His brother was maintaining an excellent façade of strength, but Fíli could see the lines of pain tightening the planes of his face and the limp he was suppressing. Every instinct as an elder brother was screaming for the blond to force him to safety, but Kíli was right. They would need his help to free Bard if the guards resisted the idea. Beyond that however was the knowledge that as a warrior, the archer was perfectly aware of the danger and had the right to make his own choices._

_“That is more time than I feared we would have. Let us make good use of it,” was all Fíli chose to say, leading the others out the door. For the second time that week they were headed towards the armoury, which also housed the guardhouse. Hopefully this incursion would go more smoothly than the last._

_The journey was significantly more difficult. Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda had done their work well. The citizens of Laketown were spilling out of their homes and bustling about in shouting clumps, headed towards bridges, boats, and any other means to shore they could find. One enterprising old woman moved along the canals on an overturned table as she used a cutting board to paddle. The three dwarves turned up their hoods and tried to blend in. None of them could spare the time to handle any accusations about the others rousing the dragon, however justified._

_Fíli’s stomach was knotted with anxiety by the time they made their way to the building where Bard was being held. Their slow progress had dragged until minutes felt like hours and the itch at the back of his neck had him convinced that any moment the dragon would be overhead._

_Bofur sighed in relief when they reached the ambitious building, one of the largest in this town of narrow leaning shanties. “If Kíli was correct about how fast he’s travelling, we should have about an hour left.” Fíli joined in the sigh. Bofur had the most accurate time-sense of any in the Company thanks to extensive time spent in the mines._

_Relieved from his concern about Smaug’s arrival, the heir shifted his focus to the guard post. The guards were in just as much chaos as the rest of the town, and he could hear loud arguments about what was happening. Many of the guards seemed to think it was a trick of some kind. The unpleasant, slimy little man who served as an aide to the Master could be heard admonishing them to keep their guard up, sure that the commotion was some sort of riot aimed at freeing Bard._

_“I do not think they will be willing to release him peacefully,” Kíli observed quietly. His face was slightly pale from pain and exertion, but he had kept up well._

_Bofur hummed in accord. “I’ll follow your lead, my prince, but I count at least fifteen of them. It’d be difficult to win a fight with that many.”_

_Fíli’s breath caught at the easy use of his title. It was the first time he had been addressed as such outside of formal occasions which required protocol. For Bofur to use it now… It underscored the seriousness of their situation and the responsibility he had taken on when he stepped forward to lead. The swordsman wanted to charge in and take action immediately, but forced himself to take the time to consider their options. Their best chance was also the one he liked the least. Still…_

_“Kíli, do you think you are well enough to sneak in?” His brother had learned much about moving stealthily and climbing on his hunts around the Ered Luin._

_Rather than the instinctive assurance he had provided to Thorin with his desire to retain his regard, the archer took the time to study the building and the route he would have to take. Finally he nodded in agreement._

_“I should be able to make it. If you are providing a distraction I will not have to exert myself to remain entirely silent.”_

_“Very well. Slip around to the back then. We will do our best to occupy their attention while you free Bard.”_

_Kíli set his face in determination. “I will endeavour to be quick. How should I let you know we are out?”_

_“If we have not been ejected by then, send Bard on to the Master’s and then call for us. It may be best if you sound panicked about something in another direction to mislead any searches.”_

_The archer nodded again, tangling his fingers with Fíli’s own and squeezing in wordless reassurance before slinking into the night. The blond watched his brother’s retreating back until Bofur’s cough drew his attention back to his role in their plan. Fíli steeled his spine and drew himself up to his full height; determined to appear as an heir of Durin’s line despite his borrowed clothing and dishevelled braids. Shoulders set; he marched into the chaos at the guardhouse with a presence which instantly drew all eyes. Silence fell as the men stared at the dwarf in their midst, unsure how to react to his appearance or the other who trailed him. The tension was broken by the odious Alfrid._

_“What are you doing here?” the man sneered, his lip twisting in contempt._

_“I am here to warn you,” Fíli’s voice boomed in a fair imitation of Thorin’s. “The dragon has awoken and is on his way here.”_

_“And whose fault is that?” Alfrid accused. “Not that I believe you. All you_ dwarves _were to have departed. The fact that some of you remain is clear evidence of a plot.”_

_“This is not the time to debate fault. This town must be evacuated before it is destroyed,” the heir disregarded the ridiculous accusations of a plot. He had heard similar suspicions all of his life from men inherently distrustful of dwarves. Instead, he turned to the guard. “You must have families to protect? It is unlikely any who remain in this town will survive the coming devastation.”_

_The Master’s aide continued his bluster and slander of the dwarves, but now many of the remaining guards were shifting uncomfortably. Fíli caught their flickering glances at the door. He felt much of the same tension, a countdown to Smaug’s arrival ticking away in the back of his mind along with his concern for Kíli. He did his best to hold their attention through sharp exchanges with Alfrid and continued warnings about Smaug until he heard Kíli’s shout._

_“Fíli, the eastern gate is in flames! We must get out!” At this cry, the majority of the guardsmen reached their breaking point and Fíli and Bofur were forced to duck out of the way of their ensuing scramble. The dwarves left the building with Alfrid’s threats for inciting a riot ringing in their ears, but the remaining guards seemed uninterested in enforcing them._

_Kíli was grinning wide and slightly breathless when they rejoined him, quickly moving to a sheltered alcove. The heir took a moment to check over his brother for injuries. The brunet’s skin was clammy with pain-induced sweat, but he did not appear to have aggravated the arrow wound. Relieved, Fíli pulled him in close; breathing in Kíli’s familiar scent and feeling some of his tension dissipate. He was confused when an unfamiliar emotion flickered through the brunet’s hazel eyes, but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared._

_“Bard is on his way to the windlance. We should catch up with him,” Kíli informed them. “We could hear most of what you said, Fí, you put on a good show. Hopefully now those guards will do something useful.”_

_“Thank you, nadad. Lead the way,” the blond gestured to the bridge towards the Master’s. The crowds had thinned by then, all headed to the edges and out of town. All three dwarves were on edge, but Kíli lead them through the shadows doing his best to avoid attention. Fortunately the guard post was close to the manor and the trip did not take long. They arrived to find Bard clustered with Bain, and to Fíli’s surprise, Óin._

_“Óin? But you were to keep Sigrid and Tilda safe.” Bard started at this statement and began looking frantically for his girls._

_“And so I did. They’re on the shore and with another group of townsfolk. I returned in case you were in need of my aid.”_

_Bard’s tall figure slumped in relief and Fíli stepped closer in case he collapsed entirely. When he met Fíli’s eyes, the man’s spoke of gratitude and stubborn pride. “It appears I am in your debt, Master Dwarf,” he conceded reluctantly. “You have protected my children and freed me from imprisonment.”_

_The heir shook his head in denial, feeling shame that Bard could believe he owed a debt for problems caused by his aid of the dwarves. “There is no debt between us. You sheltered us when Kíli was ill and all others turned us away. You were correct that waking the dragon would see this town destroyed.”_

_“All we ask is that you allow us to help in the defense of the town,” Kíli added. “As unlikely as it is that so much wood will survive the dragon’s fire, we would seek to preserve as much as possible.”_

_“I would welcome any help, but what can you do against a dragon?”_

_“Bain, did you retrieve the Arrow?” Fíli asked. The boy ran to where he had stashed it for fear of more guards attempting to confiscate it. “Thank you for all your assistance. Now you should join your sisters, they will need your support.”_

_Óin drew the lad off to pass on the location of his sisters while the rest clustered together. Bard hefted the Arrow in his hands thoughtfully._

_“So this is your plan? What will the rest of you do?” he asked, not judgemental but curious._

_“We shall do our best to distract him so you get your shot,” Fíli responded calmly._

_Kíli chimed in with grim humour. “And hope that tale about Girion knocking loose a scale is true after all.” The blond rolled his eyes at his brother. Kíli had always been one for making light of serious situations. They had seen more fights than many older dwarves through their work as caravan guards, and Kíli had been welcomed by some and shunned by others for his lightheartedness. Fíli himself valued the distraction from pent-up tension and worry; and those like Bofur were liable to join in on the joke._

_The swordsman was surprised that Bofur had not done so on this occasion until he turned to see him joining Óin, pointing out vantage points from which they might distract the dragon. Glancing back to his remaining companions, he saw only calm resolve on the faces of both archers. Fortunately Bard had not taken the same offence at Kíli’s jest about his ancestor as his son had with Thorin’s dismissal._

_Still… “Are you prepared for this?” Fíli asked, ashamed of his assumption the man would take this great risk._

_“I am. I would prove there is still strength in the line of Girion, and honour in the men of the Lake.” Bard’s gaze softened when he looked back at the two young dwarves standing with him. “And whatever fault lies with your kinsmen in waking the dragon, you have proven yourselves by your resolve in this. It is a privilege to fight with you this day.”_

_“The honour and privilege are ours, Master Bard,” Fíli returned as Kíli nodded solemnly in agreement. The three turned together to climb the stairs to the Master’s door, ascending floor after floor to the roof. There were none left to challenge them, the Master likely having been one of the first to flee._

_Standing on the small tower with Bard and Kíli, waiting for the dragon to arrive, Fíli felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. The small platform did not allow much space for movement, but they would not need more. He saw Smaug’s approach, flying slowly, releasing the occasional burst of flame. The dragon was evidently supremely confident that none would be able to stop him. He was being leisurely in his approach to allow more time for the townspeople to panic._

_It was difficult not to feel some measure of terror at the sight of him. Smaug was absolutely enormous, many times larger than the cottage he and Kíli shared back in Ered Luin. His red-brown skin had more the appearance of armour, his belly glowing lighter from the fire burning in his core. The wings spanned much of Laketown. Despite his calm, there was dread pooling in Fíli’s gut. How could four dwarves and a man manage to fell this dragon when the might of Erebor and Dale had been defeated? They did not have near the strength of arms nor weaponry._

_The bow that Kíli had managed to find in the armoury was too long of limb for his brother, but the archer wielded it with confidence nevertheless. His stance was steady and focussed, patiently watching for Smaug to come into range. Bard was much the same, with the stillness that all archers cultivated. Fíli had earlier assisted him in checking over the windlance for weaknesses. It was fortunate the dwarven craftsmanship had held up over the years of neglect. Now Bard waited with calm resolve to attempt the shot his ancestor had never had a chance to make. Fíli joined them in readiness, armed in one hand with a large shield found abandoned on their trip to the Master’s, and a throwing axe in the other. It was his hope the shield would be some measure of protection against dragon fire._

_Fíli knew that as the heir, he should be down with Bofur and Óin to serve as a distraction. He was not an archer; he had very little chance of damaging Smaug from the tower. Despite that knowledge, there was an absolute certainty in his heart that he could not leave his brother’s side. It was too soon after Kíli had lain sick, no,_ dying _. He_ would _not leave him. Fíli knew that if it came down to a choice, he would always guard Kíli’s life over his own. The Thorin who had been willing to abandon Kíli in Laketown would likely scorn it as a weakness or failure in his duty, but the swordsman knew it as nothing but strength. Kíli would do the same for him; and fighting for each other had kept both alive more than once._

_He was drawn out of his contemplation by the first thrum of Kíli’s bowstring. Smaug was in range. The brunet’s shot went astray, the dwarf unused to the overlarge bow. Fíli would swear that Smaug smirked at the attempt, contemptuous of their efforts against him. The smug expression vanished in a roar of fury as the next arrow thudded into his upper lip. Fíli saw an orange glow building in the dragon’s chest and steadied himself to provide cover, but his ire was redirected. Bofur and Óin had rigged a sort of bolas out of a block and tackle, which now wound tight around Smaug’s rear leg. His wild burst of fire set half a dozen buildings alight but the two dwarves escaped only slightly singed._

_Before Smaug could attack them with more focussed intent, Kíli reclaimed his attention with an arrow that scraped off the scales of his neck. The dragon turned back to the tower with rage in his eyes._

**_“Insignificant worms! You think you can defeat_ ** _**ME with those pitiful tricks? I have crushed armies beneath my claws, you will not defeat me with your sharpened toys!”** the dragon roared, gathering for another burst of flame._

_“You think so?” Kíli mumbled under his breath, bow drawn and attention fixed on the oncoming menace. Fíli felt his heart stutter in his chest as his brother held the draw, allowing Smaug closer and closer without firing._

_“Kí, what are you_ doing _?” his lips moved with the silent question as he gathered himself to shield Kíli from the seemingly inevitable flames, tension ratcheting his muscles painfully tight. He could not move until Kíli fired unless he wanted to risk being shot himself. Fíli hardly dared to breathe as he waited, as if any movement from him would throw off the archer’s aim._

_Finally Kíli released the arrow and it seemed to the swordsman as if he had been released as well.   The blond dashed forwards to plant himself; only to watch in stunned disbelief as the arrow buried itself in Smaug’s great golden eye._

_Smaug roared in pain and fury, head snapping back to release a gout of flame into the air. There was one brighter spot on his chest in the hollow of his left breast. Fíli heard the singing snap as the windlance fired, the Black Arrow piercing the gap in his armour that Girion had created all those years ago. The dragon seized in mid-air, his mighty wings collapsing as he plunged to crash upon the town. He lay sprawled in the wreckage as the banked heat of his body ignited the rubble. Great billows of steam boiled up from the canals under his enormous form. Smaug had fallen, all hail the_ true _King under the Mountain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Lady Yavanna
> 
> [2] brother
> 
> [3] little brother


	2. Into the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably have mentioned that I am mixing and matching timelines from the book and movie and just gleefully making up my own as well XD Also, most of this story was written before BoFA came out and I had any idea what was going to happen.
> 
> Once again, hover over Khuzdul words for the translation. Thank you to everyone who left kudos or took the time to comment.

From the shore of the lake, their journey passed in a stumbling blur of numb shock. They needed to reach the mountain before any of the grieving Lakemen vented their anger on the dwarves that had been left behind.

It mattered little that they had helped slay Smaug: their kin had been the ones to awaken him. In the wake of the dragon all consideration of decency had been abandoned, and Fíli knew that if anyone realized the relation of himself and Kíli to Thorin that they would be held as bargaining chips. Particularly if the elves held to their alliance with the men. All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep, but he pushed himself forward, supporting his limping brother as best he could. The swim had not been kind to Kíli’s wound. The only benefit to the forced march was that it kept them from freezing in the cold wind, fresh from the frigid waters of the lake. It certainly did little to help dry out their thick layers, stiffened from the cold.

Fíli wasn’t ever sure afterwards how long the weary trek actually took, but the moon was rising over the smoking ruins of Esgaroth by the time they reached the Front Gate of Erebor. Smaug’s rampage had left the gate in ruins and the blond found himself bemused by the gold spattered across the rocky crags. There appeared to be golden drag marks leading out from the dwarven halls as well. He couldn’t imagine what circumstance had led to the dragon dripping with molten gold.

Once they had actually reached the mountain however, they ran into something of a problem. For all Thorin’s stories about the grandeur of the kingdom, it had never dawned on Fíli how large the mountain truly _was_. He was lost in awe of the skill of his ancestors, marvelling at the monumental scale of craftsmanship, leaving Kíli to actually voice the question on all their minds.

“How are we supposed to _find_ Uncle?” His brother sounded distraught from his exhaustion and injury. It was a reasonable question: neither he, Kíli, nor Bofur had ever before set foot in the mountain. Óin had, but his recollection was clouded by age and distance. Fíli knew that what he was truly asking, however, was if Thorin and the others were even _alive_. He had been wondering the same since the dragon had appeared on the horizon.

Still, Fíli was an heir of Durin, so he straightened his spine and did his best to sound commanding. “We _will_ find him, but for now we shall set up camp inside the gates. Bofur, locate what flammable material you can. We will need a fire.

“Óin, I would appreciate if you would look over Kíli’s leg and ensure the journey has not caused further damage. I am going to do a little scouting; I will return within the hour.” He maintained his usual confident stride as he left the little alcove they had found in the grand entry hall, but once he was reasonably certain he was out of hearing range Fíli collapsed in on himself. Shoulders shook as he tucked himself into a corner and finally allowed the tears he’d held at bay for days, weeks even, to overtake him.

He had known this journey would be difficult. Both he and Kíli had been serving as escorts for merchants to and from the Ered Luin since they were of age to do so, and had seen battle more than once. Neither had expected to encounter so many dangers almost since passing the borders of the Shire. They had scarcely recovered from nearly being eaten by trolls when the warg pack set upon them. Rivendell had been safe, yes, but hardly a chance for a proper rest with Thorin haranguing them to maintain vigilant. The stone giants, Goblin town, _Azog_...

He had been holding back his terror since the moment he and Kíli were separated on the mountain. Beorn’s had been a too brief respite from the orcs dogging their steps; but Mirkwood had almost been worse than the possibility of facing Azog again. At least with the white orc there was something to fight. Not so with the strange forest which had woven illusions around their company. It was fortunate that Master Baggins had released them from captivity in the Elvenking’s halls when he had, else Fíli might have attempted negotiating their freedom no matter what Thorin had to say about it. Being separated from Kíli had unbalanced him more than he would admit to their proud uncle.

So the crown prince of Erebor was left huddled in a corner of his ancestral home, shaking and sobbing from the aftershocks of terror. Fíli thought he might have greeted the dragon’s arrival in Laketown with open arms had Tauriel not been able to heal his brother. Going on without Kíli after everything they had managed, within sight of the mountain... It would have been more than the blond could bear.

Fíli was unsure how long he curled there, sobs finally tapering off, before he heard soft footsteps nearby. He did his best to neaten his appearance but it was still obvious he had been crying when Kíli rounded the corner.

“It’s alright, nadadel [1], you need not hide your tears from me,” the archer assured, his ordinarily silent step still marred with a limp. He slid down to rest next to Fíli and wrapped an arm around his shorter brother’s broad shoulders. “I’m sorry that so much has fallen to you over the past days. Let me share your burden now that I’m recovering.”

“I can’t, Kí,” Fíli belied his words by turning into the younger’s hold. “If the worst has befallen Thorin and the others, it’s up to me to lead our people. They cannot see me being weak.”

Kíli wrapped his other arm around Fíli and embraced him fiercely. “I know you must be the heir in public, but in private you will always be simply my brother. My role in life will always be to support you, Fí, guarding your back and standing by your side.”

Fíli felt humbled by this show of devotion from his younger brother. Others always underestimated Kíli because of his exuberance and outgoing nature; but he had always known that the archer was more perceptive and shrewd than others credited. And more courageous. How Thorin could fail to recognize that was beyond him.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage in reply. He curled tighter into Kíli’s hold as a few last tears escaped. Fíli wasn’t used to allowing himself to be comforted like this, but it felt natural. For once he could allow himself to break from his trained composure and Kíli would steady them both. His comfortable huddle was only interrupted when Kíli spoke again.

“Fí, you’re still soaked. Don’t you think you should take off some layers to dry?”

Now that his brother mentioned it, he registered that Kíli was stripped down to his under layers and boots, and that he himself was unpleasantly sodden. Kíli’s warmth had begun to soak through him, but the damp from Fíli’s clothing had bled through where their bodies pressed together.

“Ah, you’re right, Kí.” As he stood and struggled to unknot his thick sash to remove the coarse woven robe he was given in Laketown, Kíli’s nimble fingers took care of his boots. Though the inside of the mountain was cool and musty, he felt warmer once his heavy wet outer garments were removed. “Thank you, nadad [2]. Did Óin have a look at your injury?”

“He did, and applied a fresh poultice once again while muttering about elven healing. It seems my wound has healed faster than any he’s seen.”

Fíli let out a heavy sigh of relief, some of the tension which had wound his shoulders tight dissipating with the confirmation Kíli would be alright.

“Now he’s concerned over you,” the archer continued, tugging Fíli back into his warm embrace. The heir was startled. He was uninjured beyond minor bruises and scrapes, and thought he had been fairly competent in hiding his turmoil.

“Concerned by me? Why?”

“Well, first of all, you said you would return within the hour and still had not returned after twice that span. He’s half convinced you got lost and fell down a mineshaft,” Kíli chuckled.

The blond gaped at his brother. “I’ve truly been gone that long?”

“Mmm, it’s probably closer to three hours now. We can stay out here and speak for longer if you wish, but Bofur has a fire going at the camp. It would be nice to go back and get warm.”

Fíli relaxed in the archer’s hold as he considered. He was loathe to leave the comfort he’d found there, and knew that in returning he would be forced to resume his composure. Leaning on Kíli was acceptable – welcomed – in private, but he could not abandon royal dignity in front of the others.

“What’s second?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“You said ‘first of all’. What’s the second reason for Óin’s concern?”

Kíli laughed briefly, squeezing him more tightly in slight rebuke for confusing him. “You know Óin. He doesn’t believe we could come out of that scrap with the orcs and face down Smaug with no serious injuries. As soon as he was finished with me, he practically forced Bofur to strip so he could look him over. You’re his last little duckling to check.”

Fíli had to laugh along with his brother at the image. Though Óin was in truth more of a grumpy bear as he looked his patients over; unwilling to admit how much he cared even as he fussed. As his laughter abated, he sighed heavily.

“I’ll go back, of course. I don’t wish to worry them. Just...let me lean on you for a few moments more, nadad?”

“Of course, sannadad [3]. I’m here as long as you need.”

* * *

 

They had elected not to set a watch that night. It was unlikely the men and elves would reach the mountain so quickly, and even more unlikely that anything dangerous remained in a mountain formerly inhabited by a dragon.

So it was that a few hours after the four dropped into an exhausted slumber, they were roused by shouts and torches.

“How dare you presume...?” roared a loud voice. Fíli found himself dragged out of sleep as large hands grabbed at him. He had a dagger at his attacker’s throat before he fully came awake, years of warrior’s instincts kicking in at the assault. When he finally forced tired eyes to focus, he realized the throat in question belonged to Thorin. The dagger was dropped almost as swiftly as he had drawn it in favour of staring around the room in shock.

The whole Company was there; and appeared to have been uninjured prior to the unceremonious awakening. Bofur and Óin were both pinned, but it seemed that Glóin had failed to subdue Kíli. Instead, his brother had used the bow he had procured in Laketown to get the redhead in a chokehold and was staring around wildly at the other potential threats. Exhausted as he had been, it seemed that he had not fully awoken. Dwalin did nothing to improve the situation, stepping closer to Kíli and delivering a powerful slap on the back.

“Well done, laddie,” their weapons instructor boomed proudly. Unfortunately, this seemed to put the brunet even more on alert. He tightened his grip on Glóin to the point where his air was cut off. Fíli had dozens of questions for Thorin, but it seemed that talking his brother down was his first task.

“Kíli, it is alright, you can release him.”

“Fí, what?” the archer’s voice was still clouded with confusion from being woken so abruptly. “They attacked us?”

“I know; it was a simple misunderstanding. Let him go and we will sort this out,” Fíli kept his voice reassuring, not allowing his frustration with the late night ambush to seep through. Kíli seemed unconvinced, but loosened his grip on Glóin. The warrior drew in a huge gasp of air, heaving for breath with a face almost as red as his beard. Once he had been released, Fíli made his way over to his brother. He drew Kíli close, touching their brows together in a familiar gesture of comfort. The blond could see clarity dawning as his brother’s gaze became more focussed and aware.

“Oh Mahal, I was choking Glóin!” Kíli cried out as he processed what had occurred. “Is he alright?”

“I’m fine, lad,” the russet haired dwarrow called back, though his voice was rougher than usual. “Just don’t be telling Gimli about this.”

Dwalin elbowed him jovially. “Would serve you right for being unable to get the jump on a sleeping lad.” Glóin muttered in response, but none of the dwarves tried over hard to make sense of his grumbles. Now that Fíli was reassured of his brother’s wellbeing, Dwalin’s comment turned his attention back to his earlier anger. As relieved as he was to see the rest of the Company unharmed, it was time for some answers.

Fíli looked up at Thorin from where he crouched next to his brother. “Why did you attack us?” he demanded. “Were you not expecting for us to rejoin you?”

Many of the dwarves surrounding the small group looked sheepish, but Thorin’s expression turned thunderous. “We cannot be too careful now that we have reclaimed the mountain. Many will be lusting after our wealth.”

Fíli was left gaping over his uncle’s first concern. He had not yet welcomed his sister-sons to Erebor, or asked after Kíli’s injury. He had barely spared a glance for the younger or concern for the situation with Glóin. “So caution is a sound reason to waylay a small group merely camping in the entrance?”

“Simply a precaution, we did not know who you were. It is better to anticipate a threat and take action than react to one,” Thorin’s tone was more reasonable, but his explanation was not. Their small group had far from the numbers to pose a serious threat. Even stranger, most of the others nodded in agreement. Fíli surveyed familiar faces but had never felt so distant from them. Bilbo was the only one of the group to wear a similar look of confusion at their behaviour.

“Who else would possibly be journeying here?” Kíli interjected. Thorin responded, but did not glance his way.

“The men of the Lake. I did not trust the look of avarice in the Master’s eyes at the idea of the treasure of our mountain.”

“They have other concerns at the moment, uncle,” Fíli said quietly, remembering the devastation they had left behind. Despite their best efforts, Esgaroth had been primarily been constructed of old, rotted wood and was easily destroyed. “Much of the town burned, serving as Smaug’s pyre after Bard felled him.” The rest of the Company wore matched looks of stunned disbelief, slowly turning to joy. They gathered around the four left in Laketown demanding details and slapping them on the back in jubilation. Fíli heard Bofur beginning to tell the story of Kíli ‘Dragonblinder’, but stepped away so as to keep his focus on Thorin.

“I am pleased to hear that the foul wyrm has fallen. It seems Bard succeeded where his ancestor failed and returned honour to his line.”

“It should not have been his task to slay Smaug! Bard was correct, our quest brought dragonfire and ruin upon Esgaroth. You promised them gold enough to rebuild their town ten times over. Will you hold to that now their home is destroyed?” Fíli spoke desperately, trying to see some sign of the uncle who had raised him to care for his people.

“Azsâlul’abad [4] was lost due to the failings of men. Much dwarven labour went into constructing the defenses and weaponry of Dale; they should have been more than enough to foil the dragon’s attack. Had Girion not missed his shot that day... Much would have been different,” for the first time Fíli heard the familiar heavy regret with which Thorin had always spoken of his lost home. But his momentary spark of hope was smothered as his uncle’s blue eyes hardened once more. “Bard merely achieved what should have occurred many years ago; I do not see how we owe them anything.”

“And your vow they would share in the wealth of the mountain should our task succeed is not reason enough?”

Thorin scoffed. “They would have imprisoned us had I been unable to sway their minds. We could not risk missing Durin’s Day and our only chance to enter through the secret door. Promises made under duress carry no weight.”

“Uncle...” the swordsman tried once again to sway him, but Thorin lifted a hand to halt further argument.

“Enough! Now that you have joined us, Fíli, it is time for you to see your homeland.” He turned to include Kíli for the first time and his expression softened as he regarded them both, “welcome _home_ , my sister-sons!” He gestured expansively at the still darkened hallway leading further into the kingdom. The blond wished he could feel joy at the sight of a true smile on Thorin’s face, the first in many long years, but instead a tight knot of foreboding took root inside. Something was not right with Thorin and the Company.

Despite his misgivings, Fíli elected to hold his tongue for the time being. Perhaps when the men arrived to plead their case in person, the King would be more inclined to reason. Bard would be able to articulate their plight far better than Fíli himself. Maybe the odd way the others were behaving was simply due to being overwhelmed by finally returning to the mountain. It would certainly not be the first time Thorin had been stubborn on a certain point and later changed his mind. Their burglar was a prime example.

When Thorin turned to lead the way, the rest of the Company followed; excited to tour the great carven halls. Their chattering voices echoed through the cavernous space, speaking of wealth and ease now that Erebor had been reclaimed. It seemed Fíli was one of the few not to be caught up in mindless joy. Even Balin had let go of his usual somber demeanor. Bofur and Óin seemed a little bemused, but pleased enough to allow themselves to be gathered in to the general festivities.

Some of his feelings of isolation eased when Kíli drifted towards him. His brother tangled their fingers together briefly and squeezed, reminding him of the promise made only hours earlier. His eyes met Kíli’s trying to convey silently all the gratitude he could not voice aloud. The blond also noticed Bilbo had fallen to the rear of the Company and was eyeing them with much the same air of confusion and suspicion that Fíli himself held. He made a note to speak to the hobbit later about what had happened in their absence. Perhaps he would have some idea what had taken hold of the others.

The heir remained silent on their long walk to whatever destination Thorin had in mind, his attention seldom caught by the grandiose ideas bantered about by the others. His uncle named all the chambers they passed through, but did not linger. He had a clear path in mind, occasionally subtly corrected by Balin before he took a wrong turn.

Fíli made note of these names but did not listen to further explanations. Instead, he took the opportunity to survey the kingdom he was to inherit. It may have been his frustration with Thorin giving him a more jaundiced eye, but some of the awe he felt upon reaching Erebor had already faded. Just who needed halls so immense? Dwarves were not a tall people, so why had they felt the need to build rooms so high the vaulting holding their grand ceilings aloft was too far for their torches to light? Thorin’s Halls near the ruins of Gabilgathol [5] were far more modest and they served their people well enough. Even the thriving Iron Hills did not possess such ambitious architecture. Perhaps Erebor would have been safe from the dragon if the interior of the mountain had not already been large enough to house him.

He was further disgusted when Thorin’s tour led them to the Treasury, the heap of gold and treasures which Smaug had been hoarding all those years. There was enough to help the men a hundred times over without truly diminishing the pile, yet his uncle refused to part with a single coin in aid. Back home in the Ered Luin their family had lived with only a miniscule fraction of this wealth, but it had been a good life.

Fíli supposed that was the crux of his problem. The Khagal’abbad [6] were home, not Erebor. He and Kíli had joined the quest because it was expected of them, because they were needed, and most of all because they loved their uncle. Neither had any desire for riches; nor a true desire to rule. Their youthful enthusiasm for the adventure had dimmed with each new hazard. Only in the quiet hours on watch had they dared to confess their desire to return to the only home they had ever known, and only to each other. Now what was _supposed_ to be their grand reclamation of Erebor had been soured by the cost that had been paid by the men of the Lake, and Fíli desired to return home more than ever.

He attempted to summon some of that old enthusiasm to watch Thorin speak of the wonders of the treasure, but fell short. The blond could still remember childhood evenings where he and Kíli sprawled at their uncle’s feet in front of the fire and listened to tales of the mountain with shining eyes. The reality was little like that long ago dream, and left him feeling as cold as the gold itself. While the other dwarves pawed through the enormous pile, showing off discoveries and bedecking themselves with jewels, all he felt was the desire to sleep. Perhaps when he awoke this strange behaviour would all have been a dream.

Fíli was so tired he jumped violently when Kíli took his hand, his movement sending a few coins skittering across the floor. One caught his eye as it spun on its edge, the flashing light lulling his exhausted mind.

“Fí, come on,” Kíli drew his attention back with quiet words and a tug toward the edges of the room. “Uncle and the others are too distracted to care, but we need more sleep. You look exhausted. I have no idea where the bed chambers would be, but we can find a corner nearby to lay our bedrolls at least.”

The heir let himself be drawn along. A brief glance at Thorin showed him Kíli was correct. The King was holding up handfuls of gemstones and allowing them to cascade through his fingers, watching the torchlight flicker off their facets. It was an image which would remain frozen in his memory for a long time.

Kíli managed to find a small alcove with an entrance facing away from the main hall. It was blissfully dim and Fíli was about ready to collapse onto the stone floor itself. He scarcely managed to find the energy to hand his brother his bedroll, watching numbly as Kíli spread both side by side. The heir usually hated to be so passive, but his brother’s earlier reassurance had made him realize he did not mind so much if it was with Kíli. Kíli would not condemn him for less than perfect composure.

It made it easier to simply relax when the brunet drew him in close to sleep, tangled around each other as they had as dwarflings. The extra heat was more than welcomed in the chill deeper in the mountain. For once he succumbed quickly to his exhaustion in his brother’s comforting hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] brother (lit. brother of all brothers)
> 
> [2] brother
> 
> [3] perfect brother
> 
> [4] the Lonely Mountain
> 
> [5] Belegost
> 
> [6] Ered Luin, Blue Mountains


	3. Creeping Unease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili begin to realize how wrong things have gone with the Company. And a first kiss.

Fíli woke late the next morning feeling content and well-rested. Somehow during the night Kíli had managed to worm his hands under the blond’s tunic and his clever fingers were tracing patterns down his spine. The gentle motion raised goosebumps across his skin but was too soothing to protest. Instead, he tucked his head further into the curve of Kíli’s neck. His brother smelled of _home_ : pine forests, smoke, and fresh air. He had always had that trace of _wildness_ to him, setting him apart from other dwarves.

The blond let out a small noise of discontent as Kíli shifted, resettling himself against the brunet. He wasn’t yet prepared to leave this comfort. His brother’s arms tightened with the motion as he muttered a little into Fíli’s hair, clearly on his way to wakefulness.

“Mmm, morning, Fí,” he slurred. “Should’ve slept like this the whole journey. It’s so much better than freezing in the mountains.”

“Only if you wanted to be teased by the Company the whole way,” Fíli retorted, lifting his face enough so he wasn’t speaking directly into the archer’s neck. “We took enough mockery already between being the youngest and the pony incident.”

“Might have been worth it to be warm. After a few nights bragging of it, Dori would have done the same with Ori and glared down anyone who dared to so much as look at him strangely.” Fíli snorted at the image brought to mind of Dori smothering his brother in blankets and more knitwear. “Anyways,” Kíli continued, “now that we’re here, we can find a corner like this, share our blankets and sleep warm.”

It took little persuasion for Fíli to agree; the idea of curling warm and safe with Kíli was argument enough. It was curious however: they were planning to bed down on the floor when they had arrived at what was supposed to be their home.

They laid in comfortable silence until they heard Bombur calling everyone to lunch. In a much more buoyant mood than the previous night, the heir was happy to rejoin the others.

His mood faltered almost immediately. Bofur, Bifur, Óin, Ori, and Bilbo were pleased to join the rotund dwarf at his small cookfire, but the rest had to be coaxed away from the treasure. The midday meal seemed to brighten everyone’s spirits however, and by the end Bofur had captured their attention with another animated telling of Smaug’s demise.

“So there Óin and myself were, standing on the roof of a shack waiting for the opportune moment. We heard Kíli fire his bow once, and a second time to strike the dragon in the face. Smaug was about to let loose a blast of fire at the lad, and scorch away all our hopes...

“ _That’s_ when we acted. Óin and me had rigged a bolas of sorts and managed to wrap it around that wyrm. He released the built up fire, but we escaped with nary a singe. The terrible drake turned to reduce us to ash, but Kíli bravely drew his attention once more.

“Smaug roared out his fury, ‘ **Insignificant worms! You think you can defeat** **ME with those pitiful tricks? I have crushed armies beneath my claws; you will not defeat me with your sharpened toys!’**

“Kíli stood unflinching in the face of his wrath; waiting for his moment as the dragon came closer and closer. And then...!” Bofur paused to allow the tension to build, and several gasps were heard from the enraptured audience. Bilbo, Ori, and surprisingly Glóin all wore open looks of anticipation and concern on their faces.

“When the terrible beast was close enough, Kíli loosed his arrow to strike true into the great golden eye of Smaug. The wyrm was blinded and reared up bellowing his pain and outrage to the skies. In doing so, he presented the perfect opportunity for Bard.

“The windlance fired with a snap and the Black Arrow plunged into the magnificent lizard’s breast. He roared for a final time before his wings gave out and he collapsed upon the town.”

The gathered dwarves cheered at Smaug’s defeat, surrounding Kíli to slap him on the back and offer their congratulations of his shot. ‘Dragonblinder’ indeed. But Bilbo still had a thoughtful look on his open face.

“What became of Laketown?”

Bofur looked back quizzically, but Fíli understood what the hobbit was asking.

“Much of Esgaroth was destroyed. We made a great effort, but the town was old and poorly constructed. Smaug’s fall destroyed much, and even dead his fire burned hot enough to consume most of the remainder. They will have a difficult winter.”

Bilbo looked saddened, then incensed when Thorin scoffed. The King had been lurking near the edges of the tale and inspecting a small pile of treasure, not paying overmuch attention but not ignoring it either.

“You do not think they will have a difficult time with their town destroyed?” Bilbo demanded.

“They should have expected it, living so near a dragon. Smaug would have moved against them some day whether through hunger or greed. What good is it to build over water and cast down your bridges when your enemy can fly? What use defenses made of wood when he breathes fire?

“No, Master Baggins, I am not sympathetic. Let them turn to their elven friends for aid if Thranduil will deign to provide it.”

Bilbo huffed in outrage and turned to fully face Thorin, eyes flashing. “And what of the promises you made, as Fíli so rightly pointed out? In the Shire, any agreement of that nature is considered a binding contract.”

The blond winced to have Bilbo remind Thorin of their argument, but was quite impressed with the way their hobbit stood up to him. He had come a long way from the timid version who had fainted when Bofur described the dragon.

Despite Bilbo’s newfound courage, he still shrank back a little under Thorin’s intense glower. “Do you think they would extend us the same courtesy if we were in their place? They did not lend aid when Erebor was taken, why should we do so now?”

“I-uh-I...” Bilbo stuttered a little, but drew himself up to continue, “I certainly would not claim to be an expert in your history, but I would venture a guess they had suffered their own losses. I _did_ hear they took in the refugees from Dale. I doubt they had the resources to provide for the dwarves as well.” Seeing that Thorin still looked unconvinced, Bilbo added, “and in any case, _these_ men are not _those_ men. They do not have the lifespan of your people; I doubt that any now living remembers the day the dragon came. Should they be judged by the actions or failures of their ancestors?”

“Men are all the same. Short-sighted, short-lived, greedy, and prejudiced. We discovered _that_ quickly enough while searching for a new home,” Thorin grumbled.

“Uncle,” Kíli spoke up somewhat hesitantly. “Does that not mean we should set an example?”

Fíli was quick to agree with his brother. “We know better than most what it is to go hungry and cold. Should we not at least _attempt_ to help others suffering the same?”

Thorin turned on his sister-sons with blue eyes blazing. “You still know _nothing_ of the world, foolish dwarflings. The early years in the Ered Luin pale in comparison to the hardships our people suffered on the road. Not _one_ of those you would have us hand our treasure away to lifted a hand to help. No, they will receive nothing from me; the wealth of Erebor is needed to ensure the future of our people.” The brothers shrank back, hurt by the venom in their uncle’s tone. Not even at his most exasperated had Thorin ever reproached them so harshly.

“That’s right, lads,” Balin agreed, stepping to his King’s side, Dwalin flanking them both. “Neither of you were born yet, but hundreds died on the road. At first it was from injuries caused by the dragon that went untreated from a lack of supplies. Burns festered, limbs crushed by falling stone never healed cleanly, and smoke damaged lungs simply gave out. After that, cold and starvation took their toll along with the occasional orc raid.

“When we tried to make a settlement in Dunland, the men there attacked us as trespassers. Wild creatures, they would kill some dwarves and carried off others to sell into slavery.

“Thrór was desperate to find a home for us again, safe from the privations of life on the road and depredations of the Dunlendings. That was when he made the open call to the dwarven kingdoms for support to drive out the orcs from the Misty Mountains, so that we might reclaim the great halls of Gundabad and Khazad-dûm [1] for our people. For six long years we waged war under the mountains. For six long years we fought alone. We lost Frerin in those dark passages: and his mother Sjöfn as well, who fell avenging him and took no small number of orcs with her.

“And not _one_ of the other peoples of Arda joined in our fight. The final battle of that war was Azanulbizar, and it cost us more than we could afford to lose. Our King, my father, and countless others. Not long after that battle was when Thráin disappeared as well.

“Thorin led us as we wandered for a time further. Had we not encountered your father, who suggested settling near the ruins of Gabilgathol [2], I do not know what would have become of the Sigin-târag [3]. Would we have continued to wander? Dispersed to live in other dwarven lands until Durin’s Folk were no more?

“What I do know is that in our greatest need, our sworn allies turned away. The men of Dale and Esgaroth cared only for their own. Thranduil not only refused to combat the dragon, he withheld supplies and shelter from those desperately in need.”

The old counsellor shook his head sadly. “No, lads, we owe them nothing.”

Fíli and Kíli withdrew, shaken. They had heard their history before, but never in such stark terms. Bilbo seemed about to argue but closed his mouth once more, distress painted across his face.

Everything Balin had told them was true, but... Once the brothers were back in their alcove away from the others, they settled into a heated discussion in tones scarcely above a whisper. The enormous halls carried strange echoes and they did not wish for any of the others to overhear. Kíli was strangely subdued, but Fíli chose not to press him for the reason just yet. He had a feeling it was due to Thorin’s dismissal of their concerns.

Instead, he voiced his confusion over the way the others were behaving. “It is strange that the others are so unwilling to even hear of helping the men of Laketown. Balin and Uncle’s reasons are valid, but something still seems off to me, Ki.”

“Myself as well, Fíli. Thorin has never had a high opinion of men, but usually he would give some manner of assistance. “

“Yes, exactly. There is more than enough gold to pay our debt to the men _and_ for all of our people to live comfortably. Usually Balin is the one to speak of moderation and diplomacy in cases like this, not argue about how we do not owe them.”

Kíli sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor. Fíli joined him, seated close though not yet touching. “They’re all acting odd, Fí. Uncle didn’t even ask how my leg is. He’s scarcely looked at us unless we disagree with him. I’ve never heard him speak to us like that before.”

“All they seem to care about is the gold,” Fíli slumped to lean against the archer. Kíli wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer as they both sat, wondering what had happened to the Company.

“I wish Amad [4] were here,” Kíli was the first to break the silence. “She’s the only one who can make Thorin see sense when he gets like this.”

Fíli laughed in agreement, picturing their fiery mother shouting Thorin down until he agreed to treat with the men. She had never had any patience with his lingering grudges. “Bilbo is making a good attempt at talking him around.”

The blond felt Kíli nod, the bristles of his stubble catching on the golden strands of his hair. “I bet Amad and Bilbo would get along well now that he’s not so hesitant to make his opinions known. We should try to speak to him alone and see if he knows what has affected the others.”

“I had the same thought, nadad. Perhaps we should volunteer to scout around this mountain tomorrow and bring him along. We might even happen across some game; it would be better than the salted fish we were provided in Laketown.” He grinned and elbowed Kíli, “that is, _if_ you can handle that bow of yours, _Dragonblinder_ , and not miss the first shot again.”

The archer groaned at the teasing. “Now I have to do something _really_ heroic so that damned byname doesn’t hold. I don’t think Bofur could have chosen something more ridiculous.”

Fíli opened his mouth to suggest several when Kíli’s hand covered it. “Don’t even _think_ of it, or _you’ll_ get a firsthand demonstration of my archery skills.”

Once he’d freed himself of the hand, the blond laughed heartily and caught his taller brother in a headlock, forcing him to bend to his hip. “Something really heroic? We’d better watch out or you’ll start thinking you’re a _warrior_ or something,” he chuckled, easily fending off Kíli’s poorly aimed blows of attempted retaliation. His grip only loosened as the archer chose to fight dirty, fingers seeking out the ticklish spot in the hollow behind his knee. With a triumphant cry, Kíli tackled him into their bedding.

It took longer than it used to, but eventually Fíli was the victor in their scuffle. Kíli might be taller, but lacked muscles hardened through repetitive labour through long years at the forge. He pretended to pout at his defeat when Fíli pinned him in their tangled blankets.

“Alright, Fí, I give,” he conceded, affected pout giving way to a grin aimed at the blond seated on top of him. Fíli once again caught the flash of a new emotion in his hazel eyes, but then they were back to their usual mischievous affection.

Still, the unfamiliar emotion served to sober the heir. “What are we going to do, Kíli?” He sighed heavily, draping himself over his brother and relishing the warm arms that came up to surround him.

“I’m not sure.” They laid in silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts but enjoying their closeness.

“I know what we’re not going to do though,” Kíli was the first to speak.

“What?”

“Lie here and feel sorry for ourselves.” The brunet rolled them neatly to extricate himself from under Fíli before climbing to his feet. He stretched out a hand to the prone and startled blond. “Come on, nadad. Let’s go explore the home that Thorin told us about for so long.”

Kíli easily hauled him to his feet and they set off cautiously, not wanting to draw the attention of the others. They waited until they were a fair distance up the towering ramp before lighting their own torches. The flickering light cast was scarcely strong enough to illuminate the smallest halls they passed through, not even touching the walls of the largest. The passages through these lower levels of Erebor were maze-like, ramps and walkways spanning vast caverns, winding through air and rock in all directions. The brothers were cautious in their explorations, not wishing to lose themselves in the depths of the mountain.

Fíli paused on one of the walkways of the Second Deep, holding his torch cautiously over the edge to survey the hall below and then up into the darkness above. Something didn’t seem _right_ about this place. He’d expected to feel some sense of homecoming upon his arrival, but it seemed Smaug had left more of a taint in these halls than just his lingering brimstone stench.

Even Kíli’s usual optimism had dimmed, his chatter drifting into the emptiness of the mountain and fading. The further they explored, the more their apprehension built. Unconsciously, they drew together, walking so closely their fingers brushed, and fell into step.

The heavy atmosphere improved a little as they approached the main level. The refracting shafts which carried light into the halls had not degraded as badly at these levels and they no longer had to rely solely on the flickering illumination from their torches. Kíli began to speak again, pointing out details of the carvings they passed. There was more than one enormous statue of previous kings, and they could not help but chuckle at the sheer ostentation of these tributes. Many of them were crusted in gems and precious metals, especially the ones they tentatively identified as Thrór and Thráin.

When they paused to study one particularly egregious example of wealth, Kíli nudged his brother in the ribs. “Getting inspiration for your own statue once you’re King?”

Fíli reeled back in horror at the suggestion. “You think I would _want_ something like this?”

“I can picture it now,” the brunet teased, “gold for your lustrous hair, sapphires for your piercing eyes, a jewel encrusted crown upon your noble brow...” he trailed off laughing when Fíli shoved him into one of the statues.

“No statues for me, thanks. I was simply wondering why Smaug hadn’t carried these off to his hoard. They must have been too heavy.”

Kíli stared at him; then up at the golden figure. “Actually...,” he studied the floor intently and took a few steps towards the far doorway, keen eyes peering into the distance. “...I think he may have come up here to look at them sometimes.”

It was Fíli’s turn to stare. Although not as practiced a tracker as his brother, once it had been pointed out he could see the faint marks of Smaug’s presence. Scratches in the stone from his claws and wear in the doorway from his bulk passing through pointed towards repeated visits.

Shaking his head at the idea, Fíli gestured Kíli to lead the way. Now at the main level they were encountering more signs of the devastation Smaug had brought to the mountain. They had to dodge around fallen chunks of masonry from the dragon’s rampage, and at least one had crushed a dwarf unable to get out of the way quickly enough. And everywhere were tumbled piles of lost possessions, left behind by those fleeing their home. They walked toward the front gate in silence, levity faltering in the face of those reminders of loss. So many had died that day, their great grandmother Fjalldís among them. She had remained behind to oversee the evacuation and never escaped the mountain.

Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous spaces, gradually drowned out as they approached the gate and the River Running. It was by some unspoken mutual agreement that rather than look out the gate, they drifted instead to the corner where Kíli had offered his comfort the previous night. The brothers stood quietly together for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. Fíli couldn’t help but compare his current worries to those from the previous day in this same spot. Only one day had passed and so much had changed. It seemed to be a recurring theme for this journey.

He huffed a quiet laugh at himself. It was still difficult to believe his concerns had shifted so rapidly. Last night he had been afraid the Company had fallen to the dragon and leadership had fallen to him, instead it seemed they had been succumbed to something far more insidious, but it was still his task to make sense of it. They really would have to speak to Bilbo tomorrow.

Fíli turned to say as much to Kíli and froze in shock at the pressure of his brother’s lips against his own, his previous thoughts entirely forgotten. It took a few seconds of absolute blankness for his mind to begin processing once more; the sensation was so entirely unexpected. But not, he came to realize, unwelcome. It simply was nothing Fíli had ever considered before.

Most dwarves began to think about relationships and courting once they had mastered their chosen craft, usually sometime in their seventies. The heir had too many other responsibilities, and too much to learn, to really select one craft and devote his time to mastery. As a result, he was also too busy for the idea of a relationship to occur to him. After all, his uncle remained unattached, and Thorin had always encouraged Fíli to emulate his example.

The blond had been lost in his surprise for too long. Kíli’s tension rose the longer he remained unresponsive, and finally he drew away. Fíli made a small noise of complaint at the loss, having begun to enjoy the kiss, and reached out to the brunet. Kíli paused before returning more hesitantly, brushing his lips against Fíli’s once more. The kiss firmed again when this time, he responded, and Fíli found himself kissed thoroughly before being released.

The brunet pulled away, but not far. Their brows touched and Fíli could feel the breath that carried each word as he spoke. “So this is alright then, sannadad?”

Fíli nodded an affirmative as best he could and felt his heart light up with the absolutely brilliant smile that spread across Kíli’s face. Perhaps the reason why he had never before sought a partner was that he already had one in the archer, standing by his side their entire lives.

In the next moment he was crushed against the wall and being kissed passionately. Having his taller brother pin him sent a new kind of rush through his veins and he felt his body respond.

He was breathless by the time Kíli released him, lightheaded and dizzy from all the new sensations.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Kíli confessed, lips moving against the skin of Fíli’s neck and sending a shiver down his spine. “I love you so much, Fí.”

Fíli hummed in response, content to stay right where he was. It took a few moments for what Kíli had said to register.

“Why now?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’ve wanted to kiss me for a long time, why did you only do so now?”

Kíli shrugged, “I’ve wanted you for years, but you never seemed interested in me. Or anyone for that matter.  I had thought you might be one of those who would declare as craft-wed.  It’s only over the past few days that it seemed like you might return my feelings, allowing me more contact than we’ve had in years.”

Fíli turned that over in his mind, surprised to realize how much that was true. He’d always thought of himself as being rather tactile with Kíli, but that was only in comparison with how he was with others. Since he had come of age and been officially instated as Thorin’s heir, there was a certain distance expected from him. Even his mother had stopped touching him in public and was reserved with her affections in private. Only Kíli had ignored that carefully cultivated aloofness to hug him or tussle playfully.

Even so, it was uncharacteristic the amount of control he’d ceded to Kíli just over the past day. He was discovering how much of a relief it was from his role to be able to hand over that trust in private. He knew from long experience that Kíli would be there for him; and he was probably the only one who Fíli would ever trust enough to surrender his control.

Kíli continued to speak. “It was the course of our journey that gave me the resolve to at least _try_ , even if you’d never return my feelings. I wanted to tell you so many times after we narrowly escaped over and over again, but there was never enough privacy. When I was struck by that arrow, all I could think was that I might die without telling you how I felt. I tried to say something when Tauriel was healing me, but I was feverish and hallucinating, so it all came out confused and wrong. Those moments were more terrifying even than the dragon.”

Fíli buried his head further into Kíli’s chest, pressing his ear against the steady beat of his heart. “I was scared too, nadadith [5]. I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.”

Kíli’s calloused hand gripped his chin gently and turned his face up for a reassuring kiss. “I’m still here, Fí, and I’ll never leave your side if I can help it.”

“Thank you, Kíli.” He debated with himself over whether to confess the next part, but decided it was best to be honest. “In truth, before you kissed me, I had seen everything as comfort offered by my brother.”

When Kíli started to draw back, hurt, he hastened to continue. “That does not mean that your attentions are in any way unwelcome. You were correct; I had not had an interest in anyone. I have been far too busy with my duties as heir to consider courting.”

Kíli’s voice was hesitant as he spoke again. “I’m not pressuring you into anything, am I? I love you, and I would never wish you to go along with this simply because it is what _I_ want.” His face flushed lightly. “I should have said something before I kissed you in any case.”

Fíli smiled up at him bright and honest. Kíli’s concern was touching but unnecessary. “I told you it was not unwelcome, did I not?” This time it was him to step forwards and close the distance, drawing Kíli into an embrace. “It is a new idea to me, but I cannot contest how right it feels to be here with you.” He leaned up and pressed his lips against Kíli’s.

Accepting Fíli’s reassurances, Kíli was quick to dominate the kiss once more. Fíli moaned as the brunet nipped his lower lip before turning his attentions to his neck. Sparks skittered across his nerves at the new pleasures. He had been too absorbed in his role within the settlement to even engage in the casual dalliances common to young dwarves just beginning to explore adulthood. All of this was new to him, and he was happy to let the archer take the lead.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Kíli murmured.

Fíli shook his head in answer before tilting it back to give the archer better access to his throat. He hummed in pleasure at the soft kisses and gentle nips, combined with the slight scrape of Kíli’s stubble. The blond had been aware that Kíli had a few casual liaisons with others, but how was he so _good_ at this after such scant experience? In fact, those encounters had stopped entirely only a few years after they began, after...

 _“After he realized he wanted me,”_ Fíli realized.

This revelation started a hot flush of desire coiling in his gut, spurred along by Kíli’s rough whisper in his ear.

“I am going to enjoy discovering every last one of your pleasure spots, everywhere that no one has ever touched before. I want to learn what make you moan, what make you _beg_ , what makes you come apart.”

Fíli groaned at the filthy suggestion in his voice, knees going weak, relieved Kíli had shifted to pin him to the wall again. Instinctively his hips ground against the brunet in search of sweet friction. Kíli returned the pressure; however in the end he was the first to pull away. Breathing heavily, he dropped his head to rest on Fíli’s shoulder.

“Eventually I’ll do all that and more if you let me, but I don’t want to rush this.” He twisted to meet Fíli’s eyes, and the blond was struck by the sweet honesty in the hazel gaze. “I’ve loved you for years, but all of this is new for you. You’re it for me, Fí, but I don’t want to ruin things between us because I pushed too fast. Is that alright?”

The heir nodded mutely, warmed by Kíli’s consideration.

“And you’ll stop me if I do something you aren’t comfortable with?”

Fíli couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Going by today, you’ll know I’m not ready yet before I will.”

Kíli laughed as well, kissing him gently before wrapping him in his arms and sliding down into a similar position as they had the previous night occupying this nook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Moria
> 
> [2] Belegost
> 
> [3] Durin's Folk
> 
> [4] Mother
> 
> [5] little brother


	4. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili pull Bilbo aside to ask what has gone on in their absence.

Fíli woke the next morning feeling an odd blend of contentment and anxiety. Spending hours with Kíli the previous day had been incredibly freeing, especially with the revelation of the brunet’s feelings and his own dawning realization that he was halfway in love with his brother. They had spent a long time curled around one another, occasionally exchanging light conversation or kisses. Both had carefully avoided mentioning the odd behaviour of the Company. The reprieve had left Fíli with confidence that somehow they would find a solution.

That certainty had faded somewhat with their reception upon returning to the Treasury. Only Bilbo and Bombur had seemed concerned they had missed dinner. Many of the others had scarcely noticed they were there at all, much less that they had been absent for several hours. Rather than his previous fascination with the treasure in general, Thorin had begun searching for some particular item in the hoard. Dwalin, Balin, and Glóin had already been drawn into his hunt; others were sure to join them.

Disgusted with the single-minded focus of the others, Fíli and Kíli had thanked Bombur for his consideration in setting aside some dinner for them and retreated to the corner they had claimed for their own. It had been no hardship to eat quickly and curl into Kíli’s longer body to make an early night of it.

The combination of his long sleep and anxiety over the situation had left Fíli itching under his skin to move or take _some_ sort of action, and it was disconcerting for the normally calm prince. If that was how Kíli felt much of the time, he would have to be more patient with his fidgeting. It was with relief that he recalled their plans to scout around the mountain that day.

Impatient to begin, Fíli roused his slumbering brother. “Come on, Kí. Let’s get breakfast and find Bilbo so we can go.”

Kíli was slow to wake and rolled over groaning with Fíli’s insistent shaking. He tried aiming a bleary glare at the swordsman, but his eyebrows lacked their usual impressive effect when he also had to keep blinking as a hand came up to rub sleep grit from his eyes. “Mmm, Fí? Why do we have to go so _early_?” he complained.

Fíli didn’t have a ready answer for that aside from his own eagerness, but there was an easy explanation to give. “The sooner we get out there, the more light we have for scouting. There’s a lot of ground to cover.”

The archer grumbled, but was forced to agree with his reasoning. “Fine, fine. Tomorrow we should scout for Erebor’s baths. I feel all gritty from our swim in the lake, and your braids are looking ratty already. You really have no hand for doing your own, do you, nadad?” Kíli teased, running his fingers through his own dishevelled locks and retying the thong that held it back. It took only moments more to pull his layers straight and arm himself for their trip.

“I would probably be more skilled at fixing my braids if you didn’t insist on doing them _for_ me at every opportunity,” Fíli retorted. “Nor is it my fault that you...” he trailed off before he could say that Kíli had been too shaky in Laketown. At the time, it had been an inconvenience and the source of some gentle mockery. In retrospect, those minor tremors had been a symptom of the poison slowly claiming his life.

Kíli’s answering smile was bittersweet, but he didn’t push the topic further which Fíli was grateful for. “Shall we be off for breakfast then, or to find Master Baggins? I should not be surprised if we found them together.”

Fíli laughed and hooked his arm with the brunet’s, tugging him out of their alcove. “Indeed, our estimable Burglar does seem to share a close relationship with breakfast. Luncheon and dinner as well; it would be no shock to discover he has beaten us there.”

“What were those other meals he told us they have in the Shire? Second breakfast, elevenses, tea, and supper I believe? I know that Bombur wasn’t the only member of the Company who was interested in adding more mealtimes after he mentioned that.”

“Perhaps once I am King, I’ll invite Bilbo to return and teach us more about meals in the Shire.”

__________

The pair indeed arrived at the cookfire to find Bilbo already present, along with Bombur, Bifur, Óin, Ori, and surprisingly Nori as well. Up to that point the thief had seldom been seen, off exploring the far reaches of the hoard. Fíli hoped it was a positive sign to find him there engaged in an animated discussion with his younger brother. Ori’s journal had somehow survived the journey and he was scribbling into it excitedly. From what the prince could hear, they were discussing carvings and tapestries.

“Good morning to you all,” Kíli greeted the gathering. “Are the others still abed?”

Ori, distracted, only glanced up from his book long enough to reply. “Dori and Bofur still are. We couldn't tear the others away from their search right now.”

Fíli exchanged a discouraged glance with Kíli, and they both ate their allotted breakfast quickly. Not even Bombur could bring much flavour or variety to the staples they had been provided by the Master. Fortunately Bilbo finished his portion at much the same time, and it was easy enough to subtly coax him away from the others.

“Master Baggins, we were wondering if you would accompany us on our scouting trip today?” Fíli asked once they had drawn the hobbit into a more private area behind one of the massive pillars.

Bilbo looked between the brothers with suspicion, his eyes much harder than they would have been at the start of their journey, even when he expected a prank. “Why?” he demanded.

“We wish to get a lay of the land around the mountain, perhaps find some game or fresh greens to add to our stocks. You have a garden in the Shire, correct? You may recognize something we do not,” Kíli explained.

Fíli looked around cautiously for any of the others who might overhear before adding more quietly, “we would also like to hear what occurred before our arrival. The others are acting rather strangely. Would you be willing to explain?”

Bilbo’s blue eyes lost their flinty hardness. “Well then, I think I shall come with you after all. It will be nice to get out of this stuffy mountain for a few hours.”

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” Kíli said cheerfully. “I knew we could count on you.” He slapped the hobbit on the back in friendly thanks, though Fíli was pleased to see he had remembered to restrain his strength. They had all learned that hobbits were not quite so sturdy as dwarves after a similar companionable gesture from Dwalin had sent their burglar sprawling.

After Bilbo snuck back to retrieve his sword, the trio headed to the Front Gate. Bilbo kept up a steady stream of chatter as they walked; about how he missed his garden, and the few plants he had seen growing on Erebor’s slopes, and was it formerly a fire-mountain? Because he had heard crops flourished in soil of that nature. Kíli asked the occasional question, sometimes going into more detail about plants that could be found around Thorin’s Halls. Fíli had the usual dwarven knowledge of greenery, which was to say almost none, but he enjoyed listening. Simply being on the move had served to soothe his restlessness.

Bilbo had just proceeded to talking about his prized tomatoes when they reached the Gate and Fíli got his first daylight glimpse of the area.

Devastation was an apt term for it. The swordsman’s eyes picked out the occasional scorched silhouette of a tree, but beyond that it was devoid of all plant life save some stubborn lichen. Molten gold had settled to gild some patches, the crinkled texture as delicate as the finest filigree. Aside from these scattered splashes, the ground was a uniform ashen black.

“Do you know why there are spatters of gold here?” Fíli turned to ask Bilbo.

“It was Thorin’s _brilliant_ plan to kill Smaug by burying him in molten gold. After dashing willy-nilly all across the mountain, we arrived at the forges, and Thorin taunted Smaug into lighting them. From there, he rolled away in a _wheelbarrow_ to lead the wyrm to a golden statue still encased in the mold. The fresh liquid from the forges had melted it, so once they broke away the stone it didn’t take long before it splashed out to cover Smaug.”

Bilbo brought his hands up to cover his face, “and just for a moment he went under a wave of gold, and I thought ‘this is it, we’ve defeated the dragon.’ He surfaced again seconds later, more furious than ever, and raced off to destroy Esgaroth.”

They were all silent for a time after that, the hobbit the first to break it. “I am sorry, Fíli, Kíli.”

Startled, they responded in unison. “Sorry? Why?”

Bilbo laughed briefly before sobering once more. “It never fails to surprise me when you lads do that. Being around the pair of you sometimes makes me wish I had a sibling.” He sighed heavily before he continued. “I’m afraid it was I who gave him the idea to destroy Laketown. I got far too caught up in my cleverness riddling with the lizard and gave as a title ‘Barrel Rider’. He could hardly help but think of the Lake-men with that hint.”

“No apologies are necessary, Master Baggins, at least not to us. In any case I have read of the difficulties of speaking to dragons, you did altogether better than most in your encounter. After all, you came out of it alive,” Fíli pointed out.

Kíli clapped him on the shoulder with his free hand and continued, “and we are pleased you did, Master Baggins. You burgled the dragon out of the mountain and gave us a chance to fell him. Once Uncle sees reason and helps the men rebuild, it will have all turned out for the best.”

Bilbo blushed and stammered from the compliments they’d paid him, hesitant to accept their ready forgiveness. Fíli smiled affectionately at his lingering awkwardness and at his brother’s endless optimism. This outing was a good idea if for no other reason than to see Kíli somehow revitalized by the open air and feel the same change in himself. Neither of them was well suited for the deep caverns of Erebor after spending their lives on the surface. Fíli paused for a moment just to breathe deep of the fresh air, sharp with the oncoming approach of winter.

Still, “I don’t think it will be that simple, my lads,” Bilbo pointed out sadly. “Thorin was changed by his first sight of the gold, and it seems to be spreading more strongly to the others.”

Fíli and Kíli exchanged a long look when the hobbit confirmed their suspicions. “We know.”

“I believe that the lure of the treasure had been working on Thorin before we even reached the mountain,” the blond continued, “the uncle we grew up with never would have attempted to leave Kíli injured and alone in Laketown, not without ensuring he would be taken care of. Nor would he have tried to prevent me from remaining at his side.” It still pained Fíli to hear those words spoken in his uncle’s quiet but affectionate tone _‘one day you will be King and you will understand.’_

“ _I hope I_ never _become King if it means making choices like that_ ,” Fíli thought fiercely.

“He seemed very unlike himself when he threatened me as well.”

Bilbo’s words instantly drew the brothers’ attention back to him. “Thorin _threatened_ you? When?”

“ _Why?_ ”

“In the treasury, when I was sent to search out the blasted Arkenstone. Smaug had gotten worked up enough that his fire was nipping at my heels and I was trying to return to the others when I bumped into Thorin. I tried to persuade him to run with me when his sword came up to block my path and he demanded the Arkenstone. He only relented when the dragon was nearly upon us.”

“ _Well, that explains why he was so wary when Kíli and I asked him to join us_ ,” Fíli thought, saddened.

The three turned and began walking away from the mountain in unspoken unison, desiring nothing more than to be _away_ from the treasure that was changing their comrades and kin. Fíli was unable to tear his mind from the image of his _uncle_ holding Bilbo at sword point with a dragon bearing down on them. It bore little resemblance to the dwarf who had taught him that shield brothers were to be honoured and valued.

They made it some distance with only the sound of their breath, quiet footsteps on stone, and the rustle of their clothing before Bilbo broke the silence.

“What is the Arkenstone anyways? Balin said little about it beyond it being a ‘large, white jewel’, and a fat lot of difference the description made in _that_ hoard. He was correct that I would know it when I saw it, but it might have helped to be told that it _glows_.”

“It glows?” Kíli asked, startled.

“You didn’t know?” Bilbo was even more surprised.

“We have never seen it,” Fíli explained, “it was lost with Erebor, and we were born in the settlement in the Ered Luin.”

Bilbo regarded them both in a new light after that revelation. “Then – you haven’t seen the mountain before either?”

“No,” was Fíli’s clipped response. He did not want to speak of the complex feelings his first journey into Erebor had evoked. Reclaiming their ancestral home from Smaug had only become _more_ complicated once the dragon was slain. “Regarding your earlier question, reclaiming the Arkenstone was the entire purpose of this quest. It is the King’s jewel; once found it became the symbol of the right of the line of Durin to lead the dwarven clans. All of the others swore an oath to follow the one who wields the stone.

“I do not believe that Thorin had ever intended to confront Smaug. Once Gandalf suggested burgling the stone from him, the intention was to retrieve it and face down the dragon with the gathered might of all the clans.”

Bilbo frowned, “well, that might have been nice to know before I went blundering about and woke him.”

“Truthfully, I am unsure how Thorin thought we were going to sneak the Arkenstone away without the great lizard noticing,” Kíli said absently, most of his attention on scanning their surroundings. “Or how an army of dwarves would have any more success against him than they did the day he arrived.”

Fíli had not thought of it that way before, too conditioned to follow Thorin’s lead, but he could see the archer’s point. Whether they fought him inside or outside of the mountain, Smaug would have the advantage. The long-range weapons dwarves tended to favour were not well-suited to combat with a dragon. It would take a mighty throw indeed for a spear or axe to penetrate his hide, as they had seen when Kíli’s arrows had glanced from his scales. His brother had been clever to aim for his more vulnerable eye, and they were all fortunate that Girion’s line had preserved one of the fabled Black Arrows. That day in Laketown had been a hair’s breadth from ending very differently.

Oblivious to Fíli’s thoughts, Bilbo asked, “does Thorin do that often? Make grand plans without thinking everything through?”

Fíli had to laugh. “You sound like our mother. She’s always scolding Thorin about forgetting the details.”

“Thorin’s improvisation tends to either go very well or very poorly,” Kíli added. “He seems to believe that ‘very well’ balances out ‘very poorly’, but Amad would prefer for things to _always_ go well rather than rely on chance.”

“Your mother sounds like a very sensible woman. I think I should like to meet her.”

“We think she would enjoy your company as well, Master Baggins. If you remain in the mountain long enough you shall have your chance. She will most likely be the leader of one of the first returning caravans. Amad would approve of the way you shout at Thorin.”

“She has always said he might not be so rock-headed if there were more people around willing to loudly disagree with him,” Kíli said with a chuckle.

“Amad would enjoy your quick thinking as well, it would relieve her to know there is someone else who can save Uncle from himself. She likes to gloat that when _she_ improvises, it goes smoothly. The way you delayed the trolls was simply brilliant, if not a little insulting. Plus, I get to tease this one about his ‘huge parasites’ for the rest of his life.” Fíli cuffed Kíli playfully.

His brother growled at the jab. “Are you ever going to let that go? I didn’t see you coming up with a solution, though I believe I did see you attempting to bite Master Baggins’ ankles for the insult.”

Kíli grinned at his answering mutter of “I was _not_ , his ankles were far too muddy anyways,” and easily evaded Fíli’s attempted grab.

Both ignored Bilbo’s outraged exclamation. “Like you lot were any better! I had no chance to bathe for _days_.”

“You’ll have to do better than that to catch me, nadad,” Kíli taunted. He was caught off guard when Fíli launched at him with a mock roar and they tumbled to the ground in a flurry of limbs.

Fíli could hear Bilbo fussing in the background as he tussled with his brother, worried they would injure each other or him, and he laughed helplessly at the absurdity of it all. Laketown was destroyed, a dragon defeated, the elves and men were probably headed to Erebor, and their uncle and the others were acting strangely; yet the heirs to the line of Durin were wrestling on the ground while their hobbit burglar fretted.

Kíli joined in his laughter, his lacking Fíli’s somewhat hysterical edge. Just for a moment he allowed himself to let go and revel in the playfulness. Kíli had a gift for getting him to relax.

His brother took advantage of that momentary inattention. For the first time since he stopped _allowing_ Kíli to win from time to time, the swordsman found himself pinned under him. The cheerfully feral smile that Kíli aimed down at him had Fíli stirring in his trousers, and he realized that bouts between the two of them would never be entirely innocent again.

The blond went limp as if in surrender, watching as Kíli’s grin broadened.

“Do you concede, nadad?”

Fíli took advantage of his relaxation at his perceived victory, bucking Kíli off before his body could react further to the brunet’s pleasant weight straddling his loins. He chuckled along with Bilbo at Kíli’s stunned expression from the sudden turnabout, adjusting his surcoat as he stood to conceal the evidence of his interest from their hobbit before he extended his hand to aid Kíli to his feet.

“You’ll have to do better than that, brother,” Fíli echoed his earlier challenge.

Kíli’s smile had a rueful twist to it. He took advantage of their closeness to lean in and whisper, “when we’re alone, I intend to,” into Fíli’s ear.

Heat surged through Fíli’s veins. He hoped Bilbo would take little note of the sudden colour he knew was spreading across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears.

“Right,” his voice came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Should we resume our scouting?”

Ignorant of the brothers’ byplay, Bilbo responded first, shading his eyes with a hand and scanning the horizon. “I haven’t yet seen any plants that would _improve_ upon our rations, though they’re certainly edible if we become desperate.”

Kíli allowed Fíli’s deflection, though not without tossing him a knowing wink. “I have yet to see any game either. Perhaps a higher vantage point would suggest which areas are more likely targets.”

Fíli nodded in agreement, joining the others in their survey. The landscape surrounding them was rugged and inhospitable, nothing but the hardiest of vegetation stubbornly clinging to life. It was if Smaug had scorched the ground bare and it had never recovered. From the descriptions of Thorin and their mother, he had expected it to be more akin to the area around Gabilgathol: pine cloaking the higher slopes to mix with deciduous trees as one descended the mountain. No matter what the time of year, there was always green around their home, the forests thick and inviting. Fíli had spent many pleasant hours wandering those woods with Kíli.

The heir forced his thought away from his far-distant home, wondering if that was what it had been like for those who remembered Erebor. He had a task to complete; dwelling on pleasant memories would not serve them in the situation they had found themselves.

As his eyes scanned across the western spur of the mountain they caught on a humped shape that appeared too regular to be naturally occurring. He strained them to focus on the distant form until he was certain it was a crafted structure. The positioning triggered a memory of his lessons about the mountain. “Kíli, can you see that building there?”

The archer nodded in agreement, his gaze following the line of Fíli’s arm. “I believe that is the old guardpost on Ravenhill. We will not find a better view of the surroundings.”

“Good idea, Fí.” Kíli began to lean into his ground-eating hunter’s lope before recalling the presence of their hobbit. He looked at the guard post and back at Bilbo again, scrunching his nose as he considered the distance. “At our current pace, we should reach it by midday.”

“Excellent!” Bilbo clapped his hands in approval. “That will be a good place to break for luncheon in that case.” He set off briskly, Fíli lingering a moment to admire once more the facility with which he handled the difficult terrain. The hobbit’s large feet had proved many times on this quest to be tougher than Fíli would ever have imagined, and despite being bare, he showed no discomfort in the chill air. Aside from a few times on hunting trips when Kíli had insisted he remove his heavy boots so as not to startle their prey, Fíli had never travelled any significant distance unshod. He could not imagine making a journey like theirs in such a fashion, but Bilbo was unexpectedly resilient in many ways.

As they continued towards their goal, Fíli and Bilbo remained close, but Kíli drew farther and farther ahead. The swordsman could tell from his stealthy glide, only slightly more halting than usual, that Kíli was hunting. His caution appeared to pay off. Fíli could see his brother stop dead, slowly drawing an arrow from his quiver to fit it to his bowstring. In one fluid, swift motion that Fíli never tired of watching, Kíli drew, aimed, and released. The easing of his posture told him that Kíli had struck his target. The brunet turned back to them with a grin and a wave before trotting off to retrieve his prize.

When Fíli and Bilbo caught up with him, Kíli was proud to show off the unexpectedly plump rabbit. “Shall we cook it for ourselves if we can make a fire at the outpost? One rabbit is hardly enough to share between thirteen,” he grinned impishly.

“Oh, certainly,” Bilbo agreed in pious tones, “we wouldn’t want to cause disagreements over shares. In any case, the three of us deserve some reward for taking the initiative while the others lounge around on the treasure.”

Fíli smiled and agreed, but the gold was ever a looming weight on his mind; in a very different way than it was for Thorin. He half-wished that they had arrived to find Smaug had eaten it all rather than hoarding it, or that the mountain had long since been looted.

His attention was called back when Kíli threw an arm over his shoulders and tugged Fíli into his side. “Stop frowning, Fí.”

“I'm smiling...?” he pointed out, tone conveying his disbelief that he had to even mention it.

“Your mouth is smiling, sure,” Kíli replied agreeably, “but your eyes,” his finger came up to tap the area between his eyebrows, “they’re doing that thing that happens when you’re upset or thinking too hard.”

Fíli startled back, blue eyes wide. “When did you learn to read me so well?” He looked around for their hobbit before continuing in a hush, “and should we be speaking of this in front of Master Baggins?”

“Bilbo is happily searching for spices to flavour our meal, though I don’t believe you need to watch your composure so carefully in front of him. You aren’t _his_ leader after all; I think he would understand your moments of doubt. For one, he appears to share many of them.

“As for when I learned to read you, we have spent most of our lives together, nadadel! And I have been watching you very closely indeed for these past few years, hoping to see signs that you returned my interest. How could I not learn?”

The heir felt a hot flush of guilt that Kíli had been paying such attention to him without reciprocation, but Kíli’s affectionate smile made it seem that his brother didn’t mind. As his shame subsided, Fíli found himself unutterably _grateful_ that Kíli had watched and waited, exercising patience others would hesitate to credit him with. He had _waited_ for Fíli, waited for a sign instead of levelling more demands or expectations upon him. Kíli was the only one who never asked him to be anything other than himself these days. Even once he had kissed Fíli, Kíli had pulled away when he believed that Fíli would not reciprocate rather than push him.

At the same time, Fíli couldn’t help a small niggling wish that Kíli had said something sooner. It felt so natural to think of falling in love with him, surely it would have been the same whenever the archer had made his feelings known?

He found himself caught in a completely confusing whirl of emotion, unable to voice any of it. “Thank you,” Fíli finally whispered, trying to convey everything in those simple words.

“You’re welcome,” Kíli quietly responded. He caught the blond’s chin to draw him into a tender kiss. “Shall we catch up with Master Baggins?” he asked brightly upon releasing him. Kíli’s eyes promised to speak more of this later if Fíli chose.

For the time being, Fíli nodded in agreement. They should continue with their self-appointed task.

Bilbo was easy to locate, already returning with a handful of spices. The brothers snorted at his complaints about the lack of variety, but the hobbit allowed that as it was late October, some scarcity was to be expected. The rest of their walk to the outpost passed in a comfortable silence, Kíli ranging ahead to search for more game. He brought down another pair of rabbits, but the trio maintained their unspoken agreement to keep one for themselves. Bilbo made a fortunate discovery when he stumbled across a few blueberry bushes, the fruit wizened from the cold but still sweet. He was quite proud as he bundled the treasure in a handkerchief he’d stolen from Mirkwood.


	5. Ravenhill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this fic will be changing to E next chapter, as Fili and Kili take advantage of a moment alone.

As Kíli had predicted, they approached the outpost around midday. Fíli tensed when he saw the archer drop into an alert crouch, hands flying to the hilt of his sword and a dagger tucked into his coat. He curled low as his eyes caught the flurry of motion that had alerted his brother. Part of him was distantly impressed that Bilbo had followed suit, crouching silently by his side with a hand on his own sword.

Fíli could see Kíli’s hand inching back to pull an arrow from his quiver without drawing attention. His eyes strained to make out the outlines of the black shape in the shadow of the ruined guardpost. The swordsman stiffened, preparing to charge when it resolved into two shapes when they fluttered closer, relaxing abruptly when they emerged fully into the light and he could tell it was a pair of ravens.

“Kíli, no!” his cry halted the archer in setting up his shot, for Fíli remembered what he had learned about the ravens of the mountain. Releasing his hold on his weapons, Fíli strode confidently over to them.

One was quite elderly. Fíli could see the raven was going blind and this challenge in flight had been what had so startled Kíli. The feathers on the raven’s breast and head were going patchy, but this had once been a strong bird, a massive example of the species. The other bird accompanying the first was smaller and sleeker, feathers still a glossy black. They ruffled and settled under his attention, both ravens bowing to him.

“Greetings, Master Dwarf. It is good for these aged eyes to see dwarves return to the mountain. I am Roäc, son of Carc, Chief of the ravens of the mountain,” he croaked his introduction. Fíli tucked his smile under his hand when Kíli and Bilbo startled at hearing Westron from a raven. “At my side is my granddaughter, Reith. She has been my aide ever since I began to lose my sight.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Roäc,” he nodded to the elder raven, “and Reith. I am Fíli, son of Hjalli, at your service.” He bowed low, hand over his heart before rising to gesture to the others. “This is my brother, Kíli, and Master Baggins of the Shire.” It still felt strange to use his father’s name in introductions, the common practice being to use the parent with higher status. It had become a habit, however, after Thorin’s encounter with the brigands in Bree. Their uncle did not want the brothers to be targeted as well.

“I must congratulate you on reclaiming the mountain now that Smaug has been defeated.” Roäc bobbed his head before continuing, seemingly hesitant. “I – I do not suppose any of the line of Durin has returned with you? I remember them fondly from my youth, and was saddened when news reached our tribe that many had been lost in the wars with the orcs.”

Fíli and Kíli glanced at each other, laughing sheepishly. “Perhaps I should introduce myself once more. Fíli, sister-son and heir to Thorin Oakenshield. Durin’s line has returned to reclaim our ancestral home.”

Both ravens burst out in raucous calls of joy. “Oh, this is wonderful news indeed. To think that I would have lived to see the line restored! I must share these tidings with my people. Though we are fewer than we once were, we remember the kings of old. Many of them have been abroad since Smaug’s fall gathering information. I am afraid not all we have to impart will please you, however.”

Fíli nodded gravely. “I think I know some of what you have to share. The men and elves are gathering with the intention to march on Erebor, are they not?”

Here, Reith spoke for the first time, her voice less harsh and rasping than the elder’s. “You are correct, your highness. The men wish for restitution for the destruction of their homes. Only a few elves have reached Laketown as yet, but they remember well the wealth of the mountain. One among the men counsels restraint. He says that some of the dwarves aided in the defense of Laketown and argues for a small party to be sent, but his voice is drowned by the anger and greed of many.”

Dread pooled in Fíli’s gut, along with an absolute certainty that they would not like Thorin’s response to this news. He had a duty to his King however; so, resigned, he asked if the ravens would meet them at the Gate around sunset. “We have more tasks to complete before we return, but I am sure the King would like to hear this news directly.”

“Certainly,” Roäc croaked. “Until then, your Highness.” The pair of ravens took to the air in a flurry of feathers, winging their way in the direction of the entrance.

The mood among Fíli, Kíli, and Bilbo had soured as all three gloomily considered Thorin’s possible reactions to the tidings. They started preparing a meal in silence, the excitement over fresh meat paling in the face of this dilemma.

“Thorin’s not going to just give them what they ask, will he?” Bilbo asked, poking at their small fire with a stick.

Fíli’s shoulders heaved in a heavy sigh and he kicked a loose piece of masonry to skitter into a corner. “I am afraid he will refuse to even hear them in his present state. We might have been able to persuade him if Bard had travelled with a small number. Many men, with armed elves besides, turning up at the Gate with demands?”

“No, Thorin will not react well to that,” Kíli finished for him. Fíli could tell he was only just resisting the urge to hurl the knife he had used on the rabbit into some target.

There was no sound but the crackling of the fire and Kíli’s frustrated huff of breath for some time.

“Fí, do we _have_ to tell him of Roäc’s news?”

Fíli chuckled without humour at his brother’s plaintive question. “I had the same thought myself, nadad. You know as well as I that it is our duty to inform our King of this.” He crossed around the fire to drop a comforting hand on Kíli’s shoulder, continuing in a hushed voice, “...I think if Thorin ever learned we withheld information in his present state...well, the discovery could have consequences.”

The archer’s head snapped up, hazel eyes wide in shock. “You don’t think Uncle would...?”

“I do not know what the King would do,” he replied, shaking his head sadly. “He was willing to risk Smaug in order to threaten Master Baggins after only being within the mountain a short time. You have heard how Thrór’s actions almost resulted in the death of himself and Thorin because of his refusal to leave the Arkenstone and flee.”

Kíli nodded slowly in agreement. “I do not recall hearing that those around Thrór were afflicted with the same condition however. So what has the others acting so strangely?”

“And why have the two of you so far proven to be resistant?”

Bilbo’s question had them looking his way, startled. They had half-forgotten the hobbit was present in their concern over the matter. “It’s a good question, nadad,” Kíli said, looking to Fíli in hope that his greater education in the history of their people would provide some insight. “I could understand this not having an effect on Master Baggins because he is a hobbit. But are we going to succumb to this strange obsession as well?”

For just an instant, Fíli felt a clutching inexorability that he too would become gold-mad, that he was too weak to resist, before reality reasserted itself. “I am not certain, Kíli, but if we were going to would we not feel drawn to the gold as well?”

“I have not felt any such pull, and it sounds as if you have not either.”

“No. I know little of goldsickness beyond scattered tales of Thrór however; Thorin and Balin did not like to remember him that way.”

“Perhaps there would be records?” Bilbo suggested.

“Records? Ah, of course, that’s brilliant, Master Baggins! We should locate the library, Kíli! Thrór was undoubtedly not the first to suffer the madness, perhaps there will be some information regarding a cure for the malady.”

Immensely cheered by their plan of action, the three found themselves with renewed appetite. It did not take long for Bilbo to have the rabbit seasoned and spitted over the fire.

While the hobbit cooked, Kíli elected to climb the stair carefully to the ruined battlement for a better vantage point. Fíli declined to accompany him; despite their lifted spirits, he found himself turning possible outcomes of the situation over and over. None of them ended well.

“ _Uncle will not accede to them if they come with demands. He has always been reluctant to make deals in such cases, and has only become_ more _stubborn. If we keep pressing the issue, well, I cannot think it will serve to persuade him. Perhaps we can sway Balin so he can provide a voice of reason when it comes time to negotiate. The men and elves will not take a simple refusal, not when the men are justified in their complaint and our numbers are so few.”_

His thoughts continued to chase themselves in circles, like the wolf pup of Kíli’s chasing after her own tail. What they all came down to however was that either Thorin must be made to see reason, or they would have to go behind his back to negotiate a settlement. Not an easy task when it seemed the rest of the Company would support him.

The gorge rose in Fíli’s throat to even be thinking of sneaking around. Thorin deserved his respect, his loyalty; he had placed his faith in Fíli when he named him heir. What he was considering could easily be seen as treason against his King. It seemed there was no good choice for him to make: he could betray his duty to his King by going against his wishes, or he could betray his duty to their people in not seeking a solution. If the men and elves took action in the face of Thorin’s recalcitrance, he could not imagine the Sigin-târag [1] being permitted to return to Erebor. They would need the goodwill of their neighbours to survive.

His mind was distracted from his increasingly negative spiral when Bilbo spoke.

“I will do everything I can to help,” the hobbit promised. “With the research I mean, and everything else, I suppose. You all deserve to have your home back. I don’t believe Thorin would have wanted it to be this way before he fell under the treasure’s thrall.”

Fíli smiled in gratitude at their burglar. “I thank you for your generosity, Master Baggins. You have already far exceeded the duties outlined in the contract, and I fear before this is over we will be asking yet more of you. It is a relief to know Kíli and I are not entirely alone in this.”

“Not entirely alone, no, Master Fíli.” Bilbo’s expression turned contemplative. “I don’t believe the pair of you to be entirely alone among the dwarves either. Bombur spends more time at the cookfire than he does pawing through the treasure with the others. I have also seen Bifur more absorbed by the fantastic toys to be found in the hoard than by the gems and gold.”

“That is reassuring to hear, though sadly I do not believe either will be of assistance in this matter. Bombur is a gentle soul; I would not wish to involve him in conflict with the others. I am sure you have noticed how shy he is about making his opinions known. And Bifur... he is regarded with a great deal of respect for surviving his injury. Nevertheless, he has been somewhat – off – ever since. His voice is unlikely to sway Thorin. No, Master Baggins, it falls to the three of us to find a solution.”

Bilbo sighed heavily. “I feared that would be the case. Oh, if only Gandalf were here! Confound that wizard, promising to meet us at the overlook and still no sign three days later!”

The swordsman snickered at his vexation. “Unless he can cure this madness, I am not sure what use he would be. He and Thorin are much like two fault lines grinding together on the best of days.”

“I suppose you are right, my lad. You may as well go fetch that brother of yours, the meal is ready.”

“Thank you, Master Baggins, but I have already fetched myself,” Kíli’s voice drifted into the room unexpectedly, startling them both. The archer appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. “There is very little to see, the landscape is the same no matter which way you look: seared rock and scrub all the way to Mirkwood’s edge. As of yet, there are no signs that the men and elves are on the move, but there is a great deal of activity on the shore. My guess is that a camp for non-combatants will be established first.”

He moved from his leaning position to collapse next to Fíli, bending forward over his crossed legs to sniff at Bilbo’s cooking. “That smells incredible, Master Baggins.”

A broad grin spread across the hobbit’s face. “Thank you, Master Kíli. As I was just discussing with your brother, we are all in this together; so perhaps it’s time to drop the formality and call me Bilbo?”

“Only if you leave off ‘Master’ from our names as well,” Fíli bargained.

Bilbo threw his head back on a full-throated laugh. “I suppose if I don’t, Kíli will start calling me ‘Mister Boggins’ again?”

Kíli blushed at his teasing and made a strangled noise of protest. “I misheard your name slightly, it wasn't intentional!”

The meal passed amiably, many compliments paid to Bilbo’s cooking and Kíli’s skill in archery. Once again it was agreed there weren’t possibly enough of the blueberries to share, so each got their own sweet, tangy handful. Fíli was left with the urge to kiss away the stubborn blue smudge at the corner of Kíli’s lips, but was hesitant to do so in Bilbo’s presence. He settled for drawing him out of sight when Bilbo wandered off to dispose of the bones, kissing him over the smear and daring to dart out his tongue for a quick swipe. The brunet blinked twice in surprise when he pulled away, the same corner of his mouth quirking before he leaned in to kiss Fíli’s breath away.

“What was that for, Fí?” he asked, a little breathless himself. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Fíli pinked a little as he responded. “You had a stain there from the berries.”

“Is it all gone now?” Kíli playfully turned his head for Fíli’s inspection. “Or do I get another try at kissing it away?”

“Are we continuing on or heading back to the mountain?” Bilbo’s query interrupted any reply Fíli might have made.

He flushed deeper in embarrassment at his own forwardness, pausing to clear his throat before he called back, “we may as well return. Kíli said there’s not much more to be seen, and the sun sets early at this time of year.”

The journey back to the mountain halls passed in much the same fashion as their outward trip. Fíli carried the brace of rabbits slung over his shoulder as he hung back with Bilbo, Kíli once more drifting ahead. Their decision to take a higher path along the mountain spur paid off when Kíli once more spotted game. This time he succeeded in dropping three geese from a flock travelling southward to winter.

“And you doubted my aim,” Kíli gloated when he returned with his catch.

“Never your aim, nadad. Merely your ability to do so with that man-sized bow you picked up.” Fíli slung an arm around the archer’s shoulders and pulled him in to touch brows. “I see now that I was wrong to doubt you.”

Kíli flushed with pride and self-consciousness at the praise from his beloved brother, as always; but there was a new dimension to it that Fíli realized he’d been seeing for a few years now. It was something about his confident stride when they continued once more; he had seen it from other dwarves back home.

Kíli was _showing off_ for his benefit, like any other dwarf who wanted to impress a courting partner. And he had been doing it for _years_ hoping to catch his interest. Fíli suddenly felt somewhat foolish. He had assumed Kíli had wished to demonstrate his growing prowess to Thorin, as well as to those who held him in low esteem.

But what was the recipient of such displays expected to do in response? He wished he had not been so caught up in his duties as heir as to ignore such customs. The only reason he had even noticed the dwarves showing off was because they had been so _obvious_ about it. Of all the times for Kíli to choose to use subtlety...

Fíli spent the rest of their return pleasantly absorbed by musing over how to best demonstrate to Kíli that his interest was returned. It may have only been a day since Kíli declared himself, but already Fíli couldn’t picture falling in love with anyone else. Thinking of Kíli was also an excellent means of ignoring the dread coiling inside the closer they were to returning to the Treasury. Despite the bite the air had acquired with the oncoming night, Fíli would have far preferred to spend the night under the stars than in the bowels of Erebor. All three seemed to feel the same way, their steps slowing as they drew closer to returning.

When they reached the Gate, it was to find Roäc and Reith had beaten them there.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet us here. Would you prefer to accompany us into the mountain, or that we ask Thorin to speak with you here?”

The pair bobbed their heads in what appeared to be the raven equivalent of a greeting and bow. “I should like to accompany you inside if that is agreeable? We ravens are quite fond of shiny objects, and I would consider it a privilege to see the glittering hoard of Smaug at least once,” Roäc croaked.

Fíli felt nauseous at meeting yet another so fascinated by treasure, but he had been the one to make the offer. “Of course. Would you prefer to perch on my shoulder or my arm? I am unsure how difficult it would be for you to fly within, especially as there is very little light.” He was pleased that his voice betrayed no trace of the effort required to keep it steady.

“It is certainly possible to fly, but I will accept your generous offer to perch on your shoulder.”

“Reith, you are welcome to use mine,” Kíli offered.

The brothers both winced when the ravens settled on their shoulders.   Fíli missed his leather surcoat greatly; Roäc’s talons would have had a much harder time piercing it. The elderly raven was also much heavier than he had expected; a dragging weight that was going to require adjustment. Wordlessly, Bilbo held out his hand to relieve them of some of the weight of the game they were carrying. Kíli happily relinquished a pair of the heavy geese, but Fíli shook his head, refusing with a smile.

“Are you sure? It’s no bother,” Bilbo pressed.

“Thank you, but I will be fine.” Privately, Fíli was concerned about burdening the hobbit with more than he could carry. The geese Kíli had shot were large, plump birds. Bilbo already looked small carrying the pair. “We should go bring this news to Thorin,” he spoke before the burglar could protest and strode into the mountain, Kíli following close on his heels. Fíli smiled to himself when he heard Bilbo’s feet slap lightly against the stone in his haste to catch up.

Somehow, none of them felt like speaking as they travelled onwards. Smaug’s lingering stench was stronger after a day spent in the fresh mountain air, growing thicker as they travelled downwards.

Finally, they stood at the top of the final ramp winding downwards into the Treasury. Fíli paused to breathe deeply and steel himself for the probable coming confrontation with his uncle. Kíli shifted closer, tangling their fingers and sharing his strength through their wordless connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Durin's Folk


	6. Reaction and Dismay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin reacts to news from the ravens, and Fili and Kili find time for a little stress relief.

The Treasury and everyone in it seemed to hang on an indrawn breath, waiting upon Thorin’s reaction to the news Roäc had carried. He did not disappoint.

“I thank you, Roäc son of Carc, for carrying this news to us. As your people have never forgotten us, so we will not forget you,” Thorin began with genuine gratitude. But his expression became stormy and his voice rose to thunder as he continued, “but if those _thieves_ think they can lay claim to any portion of the wealth of our ancestors, they are sorely mistaken! If they come to this mountain with intentions of violence, they will gain _nothing_.” He paced as he spoke, gesturing angrily as he moved; concluding his speech with his back to the others as he stared at the gold.

Fíli wished he knew what about the gold held such fascination, what there was worth risking their lives to deny aid to the men which they rightly deserved. “Thorin...” he stepped forward, but Thorin was already speaking once more.

“I would request another favour of you and your tribe, Roäc. If there are any among you still fit for a long journey, I would ask them to bear messages to our kin in the mountains of the North. But also and in particular to Dáin in the Iron Hills, and to my sister Dís in the Ered Luin. Dáin has a well-equipped army and I would ask his aid in defense of Erebor.”

“I will not seek to counsel you, but do what can be done,” croaked Roäc.

“My thanks. Ori, may I borrow your journal and writing materials in order to compose messages?”

Ori nodded, awestruck, holding out the requested materials silently. Thorin swept away with the ravens fluttering in his wake. After a moment’s consideration, Balin followed.

Once they were sure Thorin was out of earshot, the rest of the dwarves broke out in excited speculation about what would happen when Dáin arrived. One of the others suggested a battle to ‘show up those elves’, and Fíli felt ill. He had not joined the quest to fight against elves and men. He had considered joining Thorin to compose a message of his own to his Amad, but after hearing that, he felt he should take the opportunity to see if he could sway the others.

Fíli turned his focus away from where Thorin had disappeared, surveying the faces of the dwarves who had gathered around him, Kíli, and the ravens as they shouted over each other speculation of what was to come. He was pleased to see Bilbo had been correct; Bombur was nervous about what the others were suggesting, and Bifur’s face creased in concern.

And they weren’t the only ones. Though all were equally vocal about protecting their gold, Ori shrank fearfully from the idea of war. Fíli knew Ori was as courageous as any, but their scribe was not truly prepared for a pitched battle. Nori and Óin appeared to share his sentiments about the possibility of a fight, though clearly not for the same reasons. The gleam in Nori’s eye put Fíli on alert that he should keep an eye on the thief once the men and elves were at their gates, lest he put his sneaking talents to more sinister uses. The others were all too caught in their excitement and long-festering hatred of the elves to have second thoughts.

To have even five of the others share some of his apprehension of Thorin’s intentions was better than he had feared, though fewer than he had hoped. Fíli would have to be wary how he phrased his concerns however; Dwalin at the very least was a strong supporter of his uncle and would not hear anything against his King. He knew what he _wanted_ to say, but was left groping for words until Dwalin himself gave him the perfect opportunity.

“If the men wanted our help, they should have asked for it rather than turning to the elves. They should know better than to trust to Thranduil for aid, he will only give so far as it benefits him,” Dwalin grumbled.

Fíli was speaking before he consciously made the decision to do so. “The men should come ask for our aid, when Thorin has already made a choice to give them nothing? Why should they turn away _any_ aid offered, no matter the source? Their homes lie in ruins and it is close to winter. They will need all the assistance available.”

It did not take the heir long to realize he had spoken more forcefully than intended.   He made a deliberate effort to soften and adopt a more conciliatory tone. “I just feel that we should hold to our promises, that it is even more important now. Smaug destroyed Laketown because we dwarves roused him. Why are we refusing to help our neighbours?”

“So you would have us just surrender to their demands? We cannot reclaim our kingdom if we start being so weak as to bow to the men and elves! I thought we had instilled more pride in your lineage than that, Fíli.” Dwalin sounded disappointed, and the part of Fíli that had never grown out of seeking approval from his weapons instructor cringed.

“I _am_ proud to be of the line of Durin, and I feel that our honour is better served by holding to our vows,” Fíli rallied, stepping up to meet Dwalin’s eyes in challenge. He looked around to meet the eyes of all the rest, pleased that all but the most belligerent looked away, shamed. He held Kíli’s gaze the longest, the archer buoying his spirits with an approving smile. Bilbo also gave him a pleased nod. “We would not risk the appearance of weakness if _we_ were the ones to approach with an offer of aid. In doing so, we could earn their goodwill, which is sorely needed. Erebor will not be able to stand alone for many years yet.”

Many of the others had begun nodding along in agreement. “Why should we offer them anything? There is only so much wealth to go around and they certainly did nothing to assist in the reclaiming,” was Glóin’s objection.

Fíli could hear Kíli choke on a laugh, and, eyeing the enormous mounds of treasure, found tears building in his eyes from his own suppressed mirth.

“That is not entirely true, Glóin,” Kíli pointed out. “We desperately needed supplies after escaping the elves, and it was a man who brought down Smaug in the end. We would have no hope of keeping the mountain had the dragon returned.”

“Ah, my lad, if you’ll recall we paid for those supplies,” Glóin patted Kíli’s shoulder paternally. “It counts as services rendered, not aid, if it is paid for. And from Bofur’s tale, you had a major role in Smaug’s fall yourself.”

Bofur began a cheer for Kíli Dragonblinder once more, but Kíli shrugged Glóin’s hand off in irritation. “ _No!_ ” came his sharp interjection. Fíli saw his building frustration that the others were not listening. The heir shared it himself. “As Fíli had said, the men provided us much more in supplies and aid than we had paid for, all because we promised wealth in return. I may have helped combat the dragon, but had Bard not had a Black Arrow, we would never have succeeded. Fíli and I would certainly be dead.”

The Company stood around gaping that Kíli, who had always been eager for any praise he could garner, was denying it for so mighty an achievement. Fíli could only hope that it would break through some of their single-minded focus.

“You elders who remember the mountain, was the Treasury ever this overfull? Does it not stand to reason that some of this wealth was looted from Dale, and further, to add to the wyrm’s shining bed? In giving them aid, we would only be restoring their inheritance. If others had taken the mountain first, would we expect no less?”

Fíli’s appeal was struck down almost immediately as Thorin returned. “You are a fool, Fíli, if you believe that any would pause from looting our home to return any wealth to those it belonged to. No, Dáin will send his warriors and those would-be thieves will get _nothing_ that rightfully belongs to our people.”

The swordsman was hesitant to question his King so directly, but there was something he couldn’t help but consider. “Thorin, what if Dáin will not lend his men to this cause? The Lord of the Iron Hills has already refused to support our quest once.”

This question at least had Thorin smiling and nodding in approval. “Good, you are considering the possibilities. However, you do not know Dáin as I do. He may have believed burgling the Arkenstone back from the dragon to be a foolhardy scheme; but a fight against men and elves to preserve what is ours will be much more to his taste.”

Thorin turned to encompass the rest of the Company in his next announcement. “Roäc and Reith have departed bearing messages for our kin. Dís will certainly share the news that we have all arrived at the mountain hale and healthy with your families back in the Ered Luin.” The others broke out in cheers at the thought, and in Bombur’s case, tears. His wife and children would surely be relieved to hear he was well. Fíli felt a surge of resentment that Thorin could so easily brush aside Kíli’s injury. The uncle who had watched over them since the death of Hjalli should not be able to dismiss that out of hand.

The King allowed their cheers to lose force before raising his hands to gesture for silence. “I thank you all for joining me in this long journey with no guarantee of success. You have all proven yourselves many times over, but I am afraid we cannot claim victory yet.” He paused once more to allow for their expressions of disappointment before continuing. “I am certain that Dáin will come to our aid, but through his warriors may travel swiftly, they have many more leagues to cover than those from Laketown. If we are to preserve our inheritance from those thieves, we must deny them entry into Erebor. We must build a wall to replace the Gate which Smaug so casually destroyed.”

Fíli admired the way in which Thorin had captured their attention. He clearly had much still to learn from his elder, and he only wished that he could see the sense behind his present decisions. The King had earned the loyalty of the Company and was clearly going to retain his claim to leadership. Thorin demonstrated _how_ once more when he singled out Bofur.

“Bofur, you have the most experience in construction among us. Will you serve as foreman for this wall?”

“It would be my honour, your Majesty.” Bofur was more solemn than Fíli had yet seen him on their journey, at least when their lives were not in immediate danger. The miner resettled his winged hat more firmly before nodding in resolve. “Right, lads, how many of you have worked in stone?”

Every hand save two around the circle went up; working with stone almost a rite of passage among dwarves. Kíli’s hand was notable in its absence for this reason. His brother had been occupied with far less traditional skills for dwarves, though more practical for their life above ground. Fíli himself had done some masonry, but did his best to fade into the background. He had no desire to be drafted into a project of which he did not approve.

Sadly, it was not to be. Thorin’s commanding tones rang out once more. “Fíli, Kíli, I want you paying close attention to Bofur’s instruction. This is an excellent opportunity for Kíli in particular to learn a craft of our people.”

Fíli bristled at the insult to his brother, but chose not to waste his breath arguing with Thorin. It had been a tired discussion even before he had become so strange. Rather, it was a better time to return some of the wordless support Kíli had provided so readily over the past days. He ignored Thorin’s continuing rhetoric about the elves and men to instead move to the archer’s side and tangle their fingers, squeezing in silent commiseration. The brunet’s smile in response was weak, but there was gratitude in his hazel eyes.

The blond dared to lean in and whisper into Kíli’s ear, “we can sneak off once they become absorbed in building to search for the library.”

Memories of pranks played back in the Ered Luin, sneaking around behind their elders, danced in Kíli’s eyes. “Perhaps we could seek out the baths as well.” He chuckled, “for one, I don’t fancy being around this lot for days if they’re going to be hauling around heavy blocks. And maybe,” his mouth quirked in mischief, “there’s some possibilities in having them to ourselves for a time.”

A shudder raced up Fíli’s spine from the hot gush of breath across his sensitive ear and vaguely formed imaginings of what Kíli could be suggesting. He wished to follow the brunet off immediately, never mind aught else. But once more, Thorin put a halt to his intentions.

“There’s no time like the present to begin. We do not know when the thieves shall appear at our door. I would ask that you aid in the search for the Arkenstone when not at the wall. Possessing the King’s jewel will affirm my right to ask Dáin for aid, and others of our kin should we require.”

“But...what about dinner?” Bombur voiced a quiet objection. “Kíli has brought back fresh meat; it would be a shame not to eat it.”

Fíli felt a rush of gratitude for Bombur, the chef acknowledging the skills Kíli _possessed_ just after Thorin had derided those he _lacked_. Their leader had to concede to Bombur’s request when the others looked to him hopefully. They would have little enough chance at fresh meat in the days to come.

“Very well,” he allowed, “while Bombur cooks, please search out the Arkenstone.”

While the others dispersed among the mounds of treasure, Fíli and Kíli took the opportunity to disappear into their nook, hoping Thorin would not seek them out. Kíli threw himself into the corner with a disconsolate sigh, lifting an arm in invitation for Fíli to join him.

“What’s so important about that damned Arkenstone? Thrór fixated on it as well.” His callused fingers gently untangled Fíli’s locks as the blond curled into his side. “I really thought you were getting through to them, nadadel, at least until Thorin returned. I suppose we can only hope that some of them will begin to reconsider their responses to Thorin’s decisions.”

“I wish the Arkenstone had never been found,” growled Fíli in a rare moment of bald honesty. “Kíli...I think that perhaps we should seek it out if only to keep it from Thorin.”

Kíli drew back from where he had rested his cheek atop Fíli’s head. “Fí?” He sounded absolutely shocked. “Isn’t that much like what you counselled _against_ doing with Roäc’s news? What would he do if he discovered we had withheld _that_ from him?”

“I think it may be worth the risk. There must be some enchantment to it if it glows as Bilbo has said. Who knows what influence it may possess if Thorin holds it?”

The brunet was silent for long moments as he considered the implications. “But what if it has the same influence over us? We are among the few who have never seen the Arkenstone, what if that is what grants us resistance to the madness which has ensnared the Company?”

“You may be right, nadad. But that leaves us without a solution once more.”

“Not entirely. Perhaps there are records in the library regarding the stone as well as the sickness. We can make our decision then.”

Fíli chuckled weakly, adopting a pretense of shock as he pushed back to stare at Kíli. “What have you done with my brother? That was far too reasoned a suggestion for someone Amad named as reckless only the day before we set out.”

The archer’s eyes widened before he realized his brother’s jest. “If I acted reckless, it was only to get _you_ to lighten up.” He shoved playfully at the blond.

“Of course you did, Kí,” Fíli’s sarcasm layered thick in his reply. “That’s the reason for the incident with the goat and the – mph!” Rather than the hand he had been expecting to wrestle away, he was cut off by Kíli’s lips sealing over his own. The sensation was much more pleasant than his brother’s callused and frequently filthy palm, and it did not take long before he melted into the kiss with a happy sigh, his teasing entirely forgotten.

Kíli’s lips had chapped much like his own in the brisk mountain air, and the skin catching as they kissed was a novel experience for the blond. Unlike the first time Kíli had kissed him, he was not so overwhelmed as to lose track of all else. Fíli took the opportunity to observe the brunet’s motions and mimicked him with increasing skill.

Kíli grinned against his mouth when he caught on to how Fíli was copying him. In the next moment, Fíli felt his tongue brush lightly along the seam of his lips. When Fíli gasped in surprise, his brother took the opportunity to lick into his mouth, tracing the ridges along the top and tangling his tongue with Fíli’s.

The blond groaned into the kiss, feeling himself respond. His free hand rose to tangle in Kíli’s long brown locks, fingernails scratching across his scalp the way Kíli had always liked. Kíli’s approving moan sent shivers down his spine to his swiftly stiffening member. He half expected the archer to mirror him, but Kíli instead moved lower to gently cup him through his trousers. The touch caused Fíli to whimper deep in his throat and thrust forward helplessly. It startled him how different and arousing it felt simply to have another’s hands on him.

“This alright, Fí?” Kíli broke the kiss to ask.

At Fíli’s shaky nod, his clever fingers stroked over the swordsman’s trapped length while he teased kisses down his neck. The rasp of Kíli’s stubble against his own beard and the sensitive skin of his throat prickled goose bumps along the brunet’s path. Fíli clutched harder at his brother’s hair and tunic in an attempt to ground himself, startled when the pull on Kíli’s scalp had him whining in pleasure. As if in response, Kíli shifted to throw a leg over Fíli’s and more fully surround the shorter blond. He kept his hand moving over the bulge in Fíli’s trousers, firm but not yet pushing for more. They were already proceeding with that would likely be perceived as undue haste by more traditional dwarves.

Fíli could feel it too however; the sense of urgency that had pushed Kíli into action, that still drove him. It grew with every pronouncement by Thorin, the strangeness of the others, the news carried by ravens. It urged them both to grasp for everything that was _good_ as if the coming days would snatch it from them.

Even without that feeling, Fíli wasn’t sure he would agree they were rushing things. He was not yet _in love_ with his brother, but he had _loved_ him even before his birth. Much of an extended courtship was intended to allow the pair to determine if they were truly suited, to allow them to become accustomed to one another. He already knew his brother better than he would ever know another. It was uncommon enough that he had never been witness to another courtship between siblings, but he would venture a guess that it would be much the same for others.

Kíli seemed to sense his slight distraction, pulling away and stilling his hand to ask, “is this still alright? You would tell me if I did something to make you uncomfortable or that you disliked, would you not?”

Touched by his concern, Fíli leaned forward to steal a kiss before responding. “It feels wonderful, Kí. Of course I would tell you, but I doubt I will ever have the need.”

Kíli grinned and flexed his fingers around the hot length in his hand. “Then what distracted you so from _this_?”

His breath caught on a gasp at the teasing pressure, hips bucking involuntarily in a bid for more. “I – oh – I was just thinking how lucky I am to have this. To have you.” The last word emerged around a moan when Kíli’s fingers twisted and stroked just right.

“Lucky?” The archer’s voice held a note of vulnerability. Fíli opened his eyes, unsure of when he had closed them, too see that Kíli’s bearing had hunched and his eyes held an uncertainty unusual for him to display.

“Oh, Kí,” Fíli sighed at this rare sign that Kíli had been hurt by the low regard he was held in by some. “Any dwarrow would be fortunate indeed to have you. I feel lucky that I am the one you wanted. Surely Mahal has blessed me, to guide you to stand at my side.”

If Fíli had ever intended to say more, it was lost when Kíli pushed him more firmly against the wall and kissed the air from his lungs. He was lightheaded and euphoric by the time the brunet allowed him a full breath once more. He barely retained the awareness to register what Kíli was doing when his stubble rasped across his collarbone; but felt a definite jolt when his long fingers reached through the opened laces to grasp Fíli’s cock.

Fíli’s head fell back on a long groan of pleasure and bared his throat to more of Kíli’s attentions. The archer’s calluses felt so similar and yet so different from his own when he took himself in hand. There was a definite appeal to not knowing what Kíli would choose to do next.

“Do you like that, razdûn-ê [1]?”

Fíli nodded wordlessly. Hearing such an endearment fall from Kíli’s lips sent another bolt of lust straight to his groin. He whined when he realized he was already embarrassingly close to coming. “Kíliiii, ‘m so close,” he panted.

“That’s alright, Fí,” Kíli purred into his ear, scraping his teeth over the lobe. “Oh – except,” his eyes looked down to where his fingers circled the blond’s thick, flushed cock, “if you come like this, it’s going to make a mess. And we haven’t found the baths yet.”

Fíli reluctantly moved to grasp Kíli’s hand and make him stop, but he had already seized upon a different solution. He growled in complaint when he felt Kíli’s weight move off him before his eyes flew open when something wet swiped over the head of his cock. The sight which met him was not what he had expected.

Kíli was kneeling between his spread legs, bent forward to lick up the length of his member. On his next pass, he instead opened his mouth to engulf the whole head. The damp sucking heat felt better than anything he had ever experienced. Kíli only had to swallow around him once to have Fíli’s hips bucking up with a startled cry as he spent himself down his brother’s throat. The archer choked a little at first, not expecting him to come undone so quickly, but swallowed his release without complaint. His hand kept moving along the swordsman’s shaft, prolonging the aftershocks until Fíli was shaking and too sensitive. Still, he seemed to know exactly when it was pushing the edge of too much, sitting back on his heels with a pleased grin. Fíli was left panting and trembling and more sated than he had ever felt before.

When his breathing started to come more easily, Kíli leaned in to kiss it away once more. It was strange to taste his seed on his brother’s lips, sharp and bitter, a flavour he would have to accustom himself to if they were going to keep this up.

Kíli released him to breathe again, moving to lie against the wall, and Fíli took the opportunity to curl into his side. Once the pleasure had begun to fade, he was aware of how much sweat had dampened his woolen layers. Kíli’s heat was welcome to chase away the chill the mountain carried from settling in. With his head tucked against the archer’s chest, he gradually noticed that the other was still hard.

“You didn’t find your own release?”

Kíli chuckled and shook his head. “As I said, too messy when we have not located the baths. I should not like to explain the state of my clothing to the others.”

“I could...?” Fíli offered.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I can feel you shaking yet from your own, perhaps later when you have recovered.”

The blond attempted to smother his yawn in Kíli’s shirt, realizing how wrung out he was. And though he had offered, he was still glad for the delay in following through. He was entirely willing, but not sure how to repeat what Kíli had done for him. The thought of using his mouth there...well, he only had experience with himself. No dwarrow was flexible enough to bend so far.

His mind drifted aimlessly, absently considering some of the possibilities of this new method of giving pleasure. Fíli was not even aware he was dozing off until Kíli’s fingers began to comb carefully through his tawny locks and he whispered, “sleep, sannadad.”

__________

The next thing he was aware of was a hushed conversation over his head. A conversation between Kíli and...Bilbo? The awareness of another member of the Company witnessing him so vulnerable had Fíli sitting bolt upright and attempting to reclaim his composure. Fíli missed his brother’s warmth as soon as he left it, but the ingrained lessons of many years could not be shaken so swiftly. An heir of Durin must always present a strong face to the world.

“I was just about to wake you, nadad. Bilbo has been kind enough to bring dinner to us.”

And indeed, once Kíli mentioned it, Fíli became aware of the mouth watering aroma from the bowls Bilbo carried.

“Thank you, Master – Bilbo,” Fíli corrected himself, remembering their earlier agreement. “It was indeed kind of you to think of us.”

“It was no trouble. Though I admit that was happened the last time I brought the pair of you food had me hesitating for a moment, I found myself desiring company that would speak of things other than the presumption of our soon-to-be visitors, or how to best construct a wall.”

Fíli found himself caught by misery at the single mindedness of the Company, but Kíli’s question drew his thoughts away.

“What happened the last time you brought us dinner?” he asked, reaching out to relieve Bilbo of their food and passing one bowl to Fíli.

“What happened?” Bilbo was caught momentarily dumbfounded. “ _What happened_?! What happened was that the pair of you decided it would be a good idea to send me to burgle our ponies back from three hungry trolls!”

Fíli and Kíli both had the decency to look abashed at this reminder.

“I am sorry, Bilbo,” Fíli apologized. “It was certainly not our intent to put you in such peril.”

“Pfft, long since forgiven. I know you did not intend me harm, and all of you were quick enough to come to my aid. No, what I cannot believe is that you _forgot_ the incident.”

Kíli was the one to answer him, tugging at his sleeve the way he did when considering something. “We did not forget the trolls by any means, just what precipitated your being sent after the ponies. Perhaps it is because we never did get to eat that night. By the end of the night what the trolls were cooking smelled almost _appetizing_ I was so hungry.” He shuddered in memory, the other two joining him as they recalled the foul mess in the trolls’ cook pot.

They passed the rest of their meal in comfortable silence, broken by Thorin bellowing about beginning construction of the wall. All three exchanged looks contemplating simply not responding to his summons, but Fíli and Kíli could not deny him when he singled them out by name. Bilbo grimaced in sympathy.

Fíli thought their hobbit might take the chance to remain behind as Thorin seemed to have forgotten him, but he heaved himself to his feet with a groan.

“I may as well join you lads. Perhaps I’ll learn something of stonework in the bargain; a useful skill to have indeed,” he forced brightness into his tone. “In any case, it is preferable to remaining in this unwelcoming place by myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] my sun


	7. Another Brick in the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work on the wall begins.

Fíli was left feeling as if he had been pummelled by hammers, and was sticky and gritty besides, by the time Bofur called for a halt on the construction of their fledgling wall that night. Much of their work had simply been clearing a space and hauling in all the destroyed stone so the elves and men could not build a ramp of their own. Fíli had thought himself to be in top condition, but in hauling stone he quickly came to realize the muscles required were not the same as those for journeying or combat. It had been many months since his repetitive labour in a forge. He could also tell the near starvation followed by enforced idleness in Mirkwood had taken its toll.

As difficult as it had been for him, he could tell the work had been even harder on Kíli. The archer was flushed and trembling by the time they were released; Fíli stuck close to his side all the way back to their alcove, Bilbo following suit on the other side. The swordsman could tell from the limp Kíli was trying hard to conceal that the labour had strained his still healing wound.

“Do you need to see Óin, Kíli?” he leaned close to ask in a whisper, hoping it would not echo in the carven space.

Kíli shook his head tiredly in response. “Just need to rest it, Fí. It would be nice if we’d had a chance to find the baths though.”

The blond huffed a quiet laugh of agreement. From Kíli’s other side, Bilbo piped up.

“Oh, a bath sounds glorious! Will you tell me when you locate them? I would explore myself, but I’m afraid I would quickly get lost in this maze.”

“Of course.” Fíli looked past Kíli to realize Bilbo was actually in the best shape of them all, allowances having been made due to his being a hobbit instead of a dwarf.

When they returned to their alcove, Kíli collapsed immediately into their blankets with a scarcely voiced grunt of pain. So lost in concern over his brother was he that it took Fíli a beat to realize that Bilbo still stood in the entryway, fidgeting in hesitation.

“Is there something you wished to ask of me, Bilbo?”

The hobbit shifted some more before speaking. “May I – may I move my bedroll here? I would feel more secure...”

Fíli found himself torn between his duty to their burglar and his desire to have moments reserved for Kíli and himself alone. Still, he was quite fond of Bilbo, so it did not pain him too much to nod permission.

Bilbo squeaked out his thanks before darting off to retrieve his bedroll, and Fíli sighed before tugging his boots off along with his outer layers. For the sake of his role, he probably should have avoided curling up with Kíli, but was too tired to care what Bilbo thought of him. Perhaps Kíli was right and he did not have to hold himself to such stringent standards in front of one who was not a subject.

Still, as he tucked himself into his brother’s exhausted embrace, he felt a wisp of disappointment unfurl in his chest. “I suppose I won’t be returning your favour tonight, nadad.”

He could feel Kíli’s answering laugh rumble under his cheek. “There’s no rush, Fí. I would likely only fall asleep on you at present.” Kíli laughed once more at his grumbled response. “Perhaps we can use the excuse of working on the wall to find accommodation closer to the Gate. Bilbo can have his own room, as I doubt any of the others will agree to being so far from the gold.”

Fíli hummed quietly in agreement, but couldn’t shake the pangs of guilt for being so willing to consider distancing himself from the others. Was it not his duty to stand by them in this? Kíli fell asleep before he could voice any of those doubts, so Fíli was left to mull over his options alone. He heard Bilbo return quietly and fall into slumber himself, but it was some time before Fíli managed the same.

* * *

The following morning saw Fíli wake grainy-eyed and muddled, though at least he was warm. His mood was not much improved when Thorin scarcely permitted them time for breakfast before driving them to work on the wall.

Fíli caught Bilbo and Bombur stealing backwards looks of longing at the cookpot. And they weren’t the only ones who would prefer other pursuits. From the twitching of Nori’s fingers, the thief missed the chance to comb through the treasure. Bifur had to be ushered along by his cousins when his feet turned more than once to some offshoot ramp or other leading away from the main path. Fíli could sympathize with his apparent desire to explore.

Aside from these outliers, the others set to their work at the wall with a will, their conversation focussed on preserving the treasure rather than their homeland.

Fíli had hoped to find the labour easier going now that he had more of a feel for it, but he should have recognized that for the foolish thought it was. His aching muscles made every movement a challenge. He was scraped and battered by the time he judged the others absorbed enough not to notice their absence. It did not take much to catch Kíli’s eye and gesture covertly that it was time to depart. The blond made an effort to remain casual, relieved that no queries followed after.

He and Kíli ventured some distance away before halting to discuss their next step.

“Kí, what happened?” Fíli caught up his brother’s hand in distress when he noticed the bloodied tips.

Kíli allowed him to carefully turn his palms upwards, grimacing in shame. “It seems that _calluses_ built through archery and woodwork are not suited to stonework any better than the muscles.”

The blond winced at the torn and bloodied skin that met his inspection, abraded from the sharp edges of shattered stone. Between these injuries and the aggravation to his leg, Fíli was relieved to already have an excuse to pull Kíli away from the wall. Kíli would only feel more shamed and undwarven if Fíli attempted to draw him away for such ‘minor’ wounds. He hoped that taking a lighter tone would improve his brother’s spirits. “We should wrap these, small as they are, before we locate the library. It wouldn’t do for you to bleed on the books, nadad.”

Kíli looked up from studying his hands with a weak but honest smile. “Indeed, I wouldn’t wish for Ori or Balin to lay hands on me if that were to occur. Ori has been looking forward to the Great Library the whole journey.”

That comment remained in Fíli’s mind as they returned to their packs to treat Kíli’s hands. Would showing Ori the library draw him away from his obsession with the gold? Or only shift it to books instead? Was there anything for the others that would prove more compelling than treasure? He couldn’t banish the bitter feeling that _Thorin_ could not be so changed. Had his uncle not claimed that the quest was for their sake? And yet, since their arrival, he had scarcely looked their way.

“Fíli?” his brother’s voice cut through his morose thoughts. “Are you well?”

“Oh, I am sorry, sannadad. I had a hopeful thought, but somehow these days such moments quickly turn to dross.”

Kíli bumped his shoulder companionably. “I know the feeling you speak of. I am unsure whether it is the mountain itself, or the actions of the others, but there is something ominous which hangs in the air.”

“I’ve noticed the same. I pray it’s not foreboding of something worse to come,” Fíli replied with a shudder. He feared the measures Thorin might dare in order to preserve his treasure. Their arrival at the packs provided a welcome diversion for his thoughts. While not at Óin’s level of skill, Fíli had much experience patching himself and Kíli after their misadventures. He welcomed the focus required to ensure the cuts were clean of debris and bandaged neatly enough to permit Kíli the use of his fingers.

With the last binding tied off tidily, Fíli thought to check his other injury. “Now your leg.”

“I’m fine, Fí, I just strained it,” Kíli attempted to demur, but Fíli refused to allow it.

“Kíli, sannadadith, please,” he said, laying a hand on his thigh. Kíli’s eyes widened when he took in the grave face of the blond, his pleading blue eyes. “Not even a week ago, I was forced to watch as you lay dying, helpless to halt the spread of the poison. Please, let me see for myself that you are healing. That I am not going to lose you to that cursed orc arrow.”

Shaken, Kíli could only nod his permission. Despite their teasing overtures over the past few days, there was nothing sexual in the way Fíli assisted in stripping off his trousers.  How could there be when Fíli’s whole attention was locked on the blood-stiffened hole in the fabric?

Fíli failed to halt the small tremors in his hands as he carefully unwrapped the thick, white dressing Óin had wound around the injured limb. When the area was laid bare, the swordsman forced himself to study it carefully rather than surrender to his dread at finding it reddened and slightly swollen. Kíli remained silent as he probed the area with his fingers. Some of Fíli’s apprehension eased when Kíli did not cry out or show any other sign of pain, only flinching when he pressed firmly on the healing wound itself.

His inspection complete, Fíli sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief. “Thank you for allowing me that. I was concerned by the inflammation, but it seems you were correct and it’s merely from strain. There’s no sign of infection, praise the Maker.” He collapsed in on himself when his observations sunk in, so relieved he didn’t have to worry about losing his brother or this new thing building between them. “I’m not... I can’t lose you, Kí.”

“Oh, Fí,” his brother’s hand cupped the back of his neck and drew him in until their foreheads touched, sharing breath in a moment more intimate than an embrace. “I could not bear to lose you either. And while life is always uncertain, I promise you, I will fight until my last breath to stay by your side. I pray that Mahal will never be so cruel as to part us.”

Fíli took a shuddering breath at Kíli’s promise. “May Mahal forge our path together.” It took some time to compose themselves; but at length they were prepared to move on. Before they stood, Kíli tilted his head enough to brush a lingering kiss across the blond’s lips.

It was only once Fíli was on his feet once more that he realized Kíli had been sitting on the cold stone floor in nothing more than his smallclothes, thigh still unwrapped. The archer looked up at him with a rueful smile, speaking before he could apologize.

“Óin said I should leave it un-bandaged from time to time, and the cool has helped the swelling.”

Upon closer inspection, Fíli could see the truth of that. Both the swelling and the redness had diminished. From the goosebumps and small shakes rippling the skin however, he had gone uncovered long enough. The blond smoothed some of the remaining athelas paste across the injury; and, judging the old bandages sufficiently clean, quickly re-wrapped him. Once Kíli pulled his trousers back on, they moved to set out before realizing they had no starting point for their search.

“In your lessons with Balin, did he ever mention the library? Ori spoke of it at length on our journey but only of searching it out.”

Fíli wracked his mind for specifics. “I believe he said it was close to the scriveners and printers? That would put it on the level of the First Deep.”

Kíli’s face scrunched at how nonspecific the location was. “That’s a lot of ground to cover, but better than the whole of the mountain I suppose.”

They tried to be efficient in their search, splitting up but remaining within shouting distance. Fíli feared that if they truly separated, it would not be possible to reunite without returning to either the wall or the Treasury. There was much of interest to be seen, and perhaps they allowed those discoveries to distract them too far, for they did not find the library that day. Erebor was massive, there were so many winding corridors to search that it was easy to become disoriented. Never before had they had to navigate such a massive area without the benefit of the sun or stars with which to regain their bearings.

Fíli was incredibly frustrated by the time they gave in and returned to the wall. Their difficulties that day had only served to reinforce the sense of dislocation within the mountain. Erebor was _supposed_ to be their home; it should not be so unfamiliar.

It was simple enough to slip back into the work and it seemed as if none of the others had noticed they were absent. Fíli felt fortunate they were not asked for an explanation. In his present mood, he was unsure whether he would feel the urge to rage or tears. The rest of the night passed swiftly enough, and Kíli did his best to cheer him with the thought that surely they would succeed the following day.


	8. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili locate the library and begin their search for a cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LittlestSecret for the amazing art! I've never had anyone draw anything for my writing before, and it's just so beautiful.

Some stroke of fortune meant the light shafts into the library had remained entirely undamaged, and their first steps into the huge repository were met with bright sunlight.

“Ori will faint at the sight of all these books,” was Kíli’s first observation, followed swiftly by, “how are we going to find anything _specific_ in all of these? It would take years to sort through so much.”

Kíli was correct on both counts. Fíli had never seen so much gathered knowledge; their library in Thorinutumhu [1] was minute in comparison. Each shelf stretched to the height of two dwarves, arrayed in orderly rows along the length of the room. Around the circumference, shelves had been carved in to the rock itself, and as he looked upwards, Fíli realized there were two more floors. Neither covered the full floor space, but they too were stuffed with shelving. His heart sunk as the daunting task became clear.

“At least this is preferable to working on that _ûgogul [2]_ wall,” Fíli offered. Casting another look around, Fíli’s attention caught on Khuzdul markings at the end of each shelf and a thick ledger on a lectern near the door. “Perhaps there’s a shelving system.”

He blew the gathered dust from the book when he reached it, relieved that the pages themselves remained intact. The cloud disturbed sent him into a coughing and sneezing fit which only abated when Kíli offered his water skin. Once his eyes stopped watering, Fíli scanned the open pages, pleased that his theory had been correct.

“Look, Kí. This book is organized by subject and lists which shelves the relevant books will be found on.”

Kíli chuckled at his brother’s enthusiasm. “That’s great, Fí. Is there an entry on goldsickness?”

Fíli flipped through the pages, quickly realizing they were organized alphabetically. “Nothing for ‘goldsickness’, but – ah – here. There’s a section for illness, and it’s been broken down by mental and physical ailments. It should be over...” blue eyes surveyed the room carefully, “...there.”

They both eagerly headed in the indicated direction, Kíli slowed by his limp but longer legs enabled him to keep pace with Fíli. The blond was struck by the odd book that had tumbled to the floor, strange for a place so neatly kept. Surely it had lain undisturbed all these years, Smaug having no use for treasure such as this. But in the dragon he had his answer nevertheless. Those books had been dropped by those fleeing his arrival.

“Is this the section you meant, Fí?” Kíli called him over to a large shelf. “Ah, here’s ‘ _A List of Dwarven Ailments and Their Remedies_ ’.”

Fíli strode quickly to his side and pulled down a thick volume of his own. “Now that we have found these, I wonder if we should retrieve Bilbo. He offered to help us with this research.”

“I’m not sure how much he would be able to assist. I took a quick look and most of these books are in Khuzdul.”

“Of course they are,” Fíli sighed heavily, surveying the sheer volume of books available to read through. He felt fortunate dwarves had been crafted to endure and so were not subject to the sheer number of ailments of Men.

Resigned, he and Kíli set to their task, each gathering an armload of books to pile beside them as they read. They set aside any they came across which were penned in Westron. If they could not find the answer that day, at least they could present their burglar with a pile to go through the following day.

Hours dragged on with nothing but the shuffling of pages, grunts of disappointment, and the changing of the light to mark them. It was Kíli that broke the détente that had settled over the room, tossing his latest tome away with a growl.

“You would think that _one_ of these books would mention an illness known to afflict our kings with more than vague allusions.”

Fíli set aside his own book more gently, forced to agree. “Perhaps...do you think that it being isolated to Durin’s line is the _reason_ for so little being recorded?”

“What do you mean?”

He considered how best to explain it to Kíli, who had been less educated in political entanglements. “I am afraid that knowledge of this malady may have been suppressed to preserve the image of the ruling line. If the Sigin-târag [3] learned their Kings were susceptible to such a thing, would it not be a matter for concern? And beyond our own people, the other races of Arda already have longstanding prejudices regarding the supposed greed of we dwarves. Learning that a King was driven to hoard gold in such a way would only confirm their worst opinions.”

Kíli groaned and slumped over onto Fíli’s shoulder. “I do see why such a thing would be done, but it certainly complicates our present situation.”

Fíli couldn’t think of a way to respond to that, so he said nothing. He just took the chance to enjoy the break from reading. The words had long since begun to swim and blur on the page. It was a nice pause to close his eyes and breathe in Kíli’s familiar scent.

Once again, Kíli was the first to speak. “We can’t give up yet! There are too many books remaining to simply assume the information is not here. But first,” he looked up at Fíli through his lashes with mischievous smile, “I believe we are sorely in need of a break.”

Before Fíli could respond, Kíli shoved against him and sent him toppling to the floor. The blond found himself sprawled on the floor staring at the ceiling far overhead as Kíli moved to straddle him.

“If Bilbo will be joining us tomorrow, it seems that private moments like this will be scarce. I should take advantage of having you to myself while I can; for whatever way this ends, I do not think we will be so free ever again.”

The bittersweet _acceptance_ of that knowledge in Kíli’s eyes was so compelling that Fíli simply had to lean up to catch him in a soft kiss. The brunet sighed into his mouth and followed him down when Fíli was forced to lie back to ease the strain on his muscles. He enjoyed the contrast of the cold stone at his back to the steady warmth of Kíli atop. Wrapping his arms around his brother, Fíli lost himself in their kiss.

Fíli was the one to break the kiss, turning his head to nuzzle into Kíli’s shoulder with a contented hum. “I like this, with you.”

Kíli chuckled lightly. “I like it too. I almost wish I’d said something sooner, but then I would have been even less optimistic that you shared at least some of my interest.” He twisted to suck lightly over Fíli’s pulse point.

“Mmm, I wish that too; but at the same time I’m glad you waited.” His hips reflexively ground up when the sensation shot straight to his groin. “Have I ever thanked you for being the only one to never make demands of me?”

With a wounded noise, Kíli pushed away from him. Startled, Fíli let him sit, and felt as if he had been struck when he saw the hurt look that had settled onto Kíli’s face.

“I’m sorry, Fí, is that what this is for you? A demand? Or do you feel you owe me because I’ve never done so before?”

“What? Oh, Kíli, no! That’s not what I meant at all.” The swordsman reached out to tug him back down, enfolding him in his embrace once more. “No, sannadad, this is wonderful. You have _never_ made me feel as if I owe you. If anything, the revelation of what you feel for me is a gift.”

Kíli’s own arms wrapped around him tightly. “So I’m not pushing you into something you don’t want? I know Thorin and Amad and the others expect so much from you, I have no desire to add another burden.”

He shook his head, a broad smile on his face as Kíli once again warmed him with his concern. “Kíli, you have not once asked something of me I did not give willingly. Being with you makes all my duties seem lighter.”

Fíli could tell that Kíli had accepted his words when he sighed in relief and once again allowed his full weight to rest on him. The blond found himself almost drifting off from the warmth and release of tension as Kíli made no further move for some time.

It could have been minutes or hours later when Kíli shook him back to awareness with a snort. “C’mon, lazy. We’d best get back to our torches before we lose the light.” He heaved himself back to his feet and reached out a hand. Fíli ignored it for the time being, stretching out with a groan while he flexed muscles cramped from lying on the chill floor for so long. He failed to completely suppress a wince, and in an instant Kíli went from teasing to concern.

“It’s nothing, Kí,” Fíli was quick to reassure his brother, “just stiff from lying on the floor so long.” He sat up to grab the offered hand, but Kíli had already moved. “Nadad? What are – ngh...” his words trailed off in a groan when the brunet dug archery strong fingers into his knotted muscles. In only moments he was putty in Kíli’s capable hands, being reformed. Kíli unworked layers of knots, built over the course of their journey until Fíli had scarce realized their presence before they were gone. He was lightheaded by the time Kíli shifted from working out the knots to long, soothing strokes.

“Is that better, razdûn-ê? [4]"  Kíli’s question seemed to come from far away as he drifted.

“Mmm, yes, feels so nice,” Fíli mumbled. He whined when Kíli’s hands left his back. “Nooo, don’t stop.”

“C’mon, Fí, we really do need to go before we lose the light.” Kíli hauled a reluctant Fíli to his feet. “We should probably join the others for dinner in any case. And have an excuse to give if any of them ask after where we’ve been all day.”

Fíli’s stomach growled with the reminder they hadn’t eaten since breakfast for the second day, and his bubble of comfort was disrupted with the reminder as to why they had spent the day reading. “We’ll have to remember to bring food with us tomorrow. As for an excuse, if we take one of the rear entrances, we can claim to have been searching for the Arkenstone.”

The brunet’s mouth twisted sourly at the idea, but he nodded his agreement. With their new and growing familiarity with the layout of Erebor, it did not take long for them to return to the Treasury level, nor to find a back way in.

[ ](http://littlestsecret.tumblr.com/post/120160305544/day-6-of-fiki-week-erebor-fanart-for)

Fíli found himself brought up short before he could step inside, as Kíli grabbed his hand and pushed him against one of the pillars in the entryway with a soft thump.

“Kíli, what...?” was all he got out before his brother’s mouth sealed over his.   Fíli relaxed into the kiss, one hand sliding up Kíli’s arm as the other tucked into the sash at his waist.

“Just, before we go back to the others,” Kíli whispered against his lips, “I wanted to kiss you again.”

Fíli chuckled, daring to tease him a little. “Standing inches away from unfathomable riches, and yet I’m what tempted you?”

The brunet nipped his lower lip in rebuke. “You know I have no interest in the treasure. Why would I desire cold metal when I have you warm and willing in my arms? I’ve longed and hoped and wished for this for so long, sannadad. The gold could vanish this instant and I would not care so long as I had you.”

Fíli flushed in pleasure, still unsure how to respond to such devotion. Never before had anyone made such ardent declarations, and they warmed and confused him at once. He never had a chance to speak of his confusion, as Kíli sealed their lips together once more and he melted into the kiss. The gentle kiss quickly turned heated. Kíli slid a knee between his legs, Fíli perching on the tip of his toes and grinding into the firm thigh. As little experience as he had, it didn’t take long before he was hard as steel and leaking into his smalls. He moaned at the contrast between the cool stone at his back and the heat of Kíli’s body twined against his. The brunet took advantage of his open mouth, tracing along the sensitive roof with his tongue. There was an intimacy to feeling Kíli grow hard against his belly as they rutted against one another.

He only pushed Kíli back when his pleasure wound too high. “Kí, wait. I don’t want to spill in my trousers,” he panted, “and we should get back to the others.”

“I suppose we should,” Kíli reluctantly conceded. He placed a final peck on Fíli’s lip before turning to eye the piles of gold with distaste. “I wish we didn’t have to travel across this.”

“I know, nadad.” It was his turn to reach out and tug Kíli along. Both cringed every time their steps sunk into the treasure or sent it tumbling down the piles.

Fíli thought that he and Kíli would have had endless fun with the mounds of treasure had they been younger or the situation less fraught. It was easy to see the pair sliding down these hills much as they had the snow covered hills each winter back home, perhaps using shields in lieu of toboggans. Sadly, their slog to where the others had set up camp was anything but pleasant.

And it seemed all their effort had been for naught, for when they reached it, only Bilbo and Bombur were present.

“Oh, Fíli, Kíli,” Bombur brightened when he saw them. “I was hoping you’d arrive for dinner.”

“Of course, Bombur! We would never wish to miss out on your cooking,” Kíli strode forward with a boisterous grin, settling in to sprawl next to Bilbo.

Bombur ducked his head in an attempt to hide the pleased flush spreading across his already ruddy cheeks from the easy praise.

Fíli seated himself comfortably beside Kíli and tried to sound casual as he asked, “so, where are the others?”

“Oh! They...they,” Bombur stuttered.

“They sent us ahead to get dinner started, but they should be along soon,” Bilbo cut in smoothly. Bombur nodded along, and Fíli wondered that such a large dwarf could seem so small. It seemed Bombur shared some of his misgivings still, and the heir tried to take heart from that.

Bilbo was proven correct after all, as it was not long before they heard the clamour of the remainder of the Company coming down the main ramp. Their pleasure at the return of the others was short-lived however, the eyes of most remained fixed on the treasure as if they feasted more on the sight than the food Bombur had put such effort into. Though Kíli did his best to cheer the chef, conversation remained awkward and stilted at best.

After their meal, Thorin wished to work more on construction of the wall, but the gold held more allure for the Company. Fíli could read his own desire to search for the Arkenstone, and therefore was not surprised when the King caved to their wishes.

* * *

For much of the following week, that was their routine. Breakfast, work on the wall until they could slip away, hours of fruitlessly reading books that only covered the same few ailments, and doing their best to ignore the obsession that had grown to consume the others.

Kíli was the bright spark of all his days. Fíli felt as though he was battering himself to pieces against the barrier of goldsickness that had taken root in the Company, seeking out each dwarf during quiet moments to remind them of other things they had once valued. Every time these attempts failed, Kíli was there to bolster his spirits. Though Fíli was sure his brother had his own doubts and low moments, Kíli never complained. The heir came to crave those moments of peace alone with him, and the chance to explore the new physical turn to their relationship.

Even with the Company so strange, or perhaps because of it, Fíli was reluctant to move to rooms closer to the library. He wanted to stay close in case one of the others had a change of heart. On some level, he also feared returning to find they had become even more ensnared by the gold. So in their small alcove they remained, and Bilbo with them. As a result, moments on their own were scarcer than Fíli would have preferred, though Bilbo’s discretion granted them a few. The hobbit seemed to have a sense of when they wished for privacy and a talent for disappearing.

At the same time, there was the occasional moment with the Company when everything felt as it had before. One night, returning through the back way as had become their habit; Kíli’s injured leg dragged a touch and caught on something in the hoard, sending him tumbling. Fíli assisted him to his feet before going to see what he had stumbled across. For once he was pleased to see a piece of the treasure.

“Kí, look!” Fíli held up his prize for Kíli’s inspection.

The archer was rubbing his sore leg and grumbling under his breath about elves and orcs and everything in between, but he looked up with fear in his eyes when Fíli called for him. “No, Fí, don’t tell me this cursed gold has gotten to you too.”

“What? No, I could care less what it’s made from,” Fíli felt guilty for scaring his brother, but the excitement for his discovery remained strong. “It’s a harp. Perhaps a night of song is what we need to remind the others of the real reasons we returned to Erebor.”

Kíli brightened, fears allayed, though he still regarded the ostentatious golden harp with distaste. “I would prefer my fiddle. It is a good idea though, nadad. Perhaps this time we can convince our dear burglar to join in with a song.”

“So long as we aren’t singing about destroying his home this time, I think he could be persuaded. I believe the song Bofur sang in Rivendell was Bilbo’s composition,” Fíli chuckled. Truly, now they knew the hobbit better, he was shocked they had not all been ejected from his home for the way they had behaved. Usually they would only be so forward in the homes of those they had known for years.

“It’s a shame there aren’t more instruments though,” Kíli said thoughtfully. “We shall have to take turns. I wonder if Bofur’s flute survived Mirkwood.” He idly kicked at a pile of gold coins and managed to set off a cascade that revealed a second harp.

“Mahal smiles on us today,” Fíli grinned widely.  That night, their return to the fire was more hopeful than they’d felt in days.

Once dinner was finished and they brought out the harps, Fíli was about to strike the first chord when he winced, realizing that neither of them had thought to check that instruments buried under a dragon for close to two centuries were even still in tune. He gritted his teeth and raised a hand regardless.

The first touch of his fingers on strings sent a rippling melody of notes through the room, _Misty Mountains_ echoing in the cavernous space. All conversation came to a hush, the Company falling silent as Fíli and Kíli played. He had fond memories of listening to Thorin sing the song in front of their fire at home, or at Master Baggins’ home, but it felt different now. His hands never faltered, not even as the deep voices of the Company joined with the rich music of their harps, but he wished they had chosen a different song to play. ‘ _To find our long forgotten gold_ ’ was a very different lyric to hear when that same gold had stolen the hearts of his kin.

It was softened when he realized that at least some of his intentions had been realized. The whole Company was united by the music.

He and Kíli exchanged a wordless look when the song was over, a private agreement to stick to happier tunes. With a wicked grin, Fíli struck the first notes of _Blunt the Knives_ to gales of laughter. Bofur managed to produce his flute from somewhere, dinnerware was repurposed as percussion, and even Bilbo joined in this time.

Bofur started off the next song, a raucous ballad from the alehouses which Dwalin delighted in roaring along to. The harps were odd accompaniment, but Fíli and Kíli gamely played on.

That evening the cavernous halls of Azsâlul’abad [5] echoed with light, life, and cheer once more. For the first time, Fíli could see what it could become once the Sigin-târag [6] returned to their homeland. The brightest point of the evening however was when Bilbo was persuaded to grant them a song. He hummed a few bars first for Fíli, Kíli, and Bofur to accompany and launched into a fast, upbeat song about dancing with a hobbit lass on a Midsummer Eve. He was greeted with loud cheers when it was over, graciously accepting them with a bow while trying not to collapse from lack of breath.

Fíli and Kíli collapsed into bed with sore fingers after a long night singing and laughing with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Thorin's Halls
> 
> [2] damned
> 
> [3] Durin's Folk
> 
> [4] my sun
> 
> [5] the Lonely Mountain
> 
> [6] Durin's Folk


	9. Soothing Pools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili find some time alone in the baths. This chapter is explict!

Fíli’s wish for more privacy with Kíli was granted on the ninth day since they had reached Erebor. His brother had been inspired to search for a map of the mountain’s winding hallways. The first Fíli knew of it, he was being towed along by the exuberant brunet.

“Follow me, Fí; I have a surprise for you.”

Laugh ringing brightly along the stone corridors, Fíli stumbled in his wake. “What is it, nadad? Where are we going?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Kíli admonished him with a grin, though he released his wrist to allow him to follow on his own. No matter how Fíli peppered him with questions on their downward trek, Kíli refused to breathe a word of their destination.

Finally, on the level of the mountain’s Third Deep, Kíli halted in front of a set of large oaken doors. “I hope they’re still in usable condition...” he muttered as he fumbled with the latch, stiff from years of neglect.

“Hope what are...?” Fíli began to ask, but trailed off when the doors opened with a heavy groan and he received his answer.

The air inside was thick with moisture, heat, and the heavy scent of minerals. It was more of a cavern than a room in truth. Fíli saw several large cascading pools carved into the stone of the mountain, each with channels to allow the water from natural hot springs to circulate through them. That the channels were still functioning was a testament to dwarven engineering. Ringing the outside of the room, cubbies had been carved to hold clothing and various bathing supplies. There were also a half-dozen pumps spaced at regular intervals with their own drainage channels and stacks of wooden buckets for those who wished to rinse off before entering the communal bathing pools.

“Do you like your surprise? I’m so pleased everything is still in good condition,” Kíli’s voice pulled him from his stunned survey of the room.

It only took two steps for him to close with the brunet and engage him in a deep kiss.

“I guess that means you liked it,” Kíli gave him a cheeky grin, fingering the edges of his surcoat. “But surely you’re not going to bathe like this.” His smile turned shy, but his voice was husky as he asked, “may I help you?”

The idea sent a bolt of heat through Fíli, and he agreed with a strangled groan. “Please.”

“Really?” Kíli looked at Fíli like he was the most precious and desirable thing in the mountain. That regard warmed him like forge fire and though he could barely force the word “please” a second time from his suddenly tight throat, his brother smiled sweetly and leaned in to capture his lips once more.

Fíli could feel Kíli’s nimble fingers at his waist, readily unfastening the rough sash he had been wearing as a belt since Laketown. It fell away and Kíli’s hands moved to push the surcoat from his broad shoulders and Fíli suddenly had no idea where to place his own hands. He settled for resting them at the archer’s waist, a placement that at least made it easier to remove his many layers.

When Kíli’s hands reached to unfasten the buttons of his final layer, a sudden wave of shyness swept over him. He had certainly been bare in front of Kíli many times before, but never had it been with such significance, with _intent_. There was no desire in him to halt; just a wistful thought that he knew what to do in this situation. Fíli had never engaged in something so important without a guide, some protocol to follow.

It was fortunate then that Kíli chose that moment to follow the path of his hands with his mouth, kissing every inch of skin slowly laid bare as the fabric was pushed away. Fíli shuddered from the soft brush of Kíli’s lips against his skin and the curly thatch of his chest hair. He hardly noticed that his brother was backing him up until he hit the wall, too distracted by the light touches singing across his nerves like the strings of his fiddle. And oh, did Kíli know how to play him. Fíli's head dropped back on a moan when Kíli’s questing mouth caught and lingered on one of his small pink nipples.

He wanted to smack Kíli for the smile he could feel against his skin, but somehow found his fingers tangled in his brunet waves instead, urging him for _more_. Kíli paid equal attention to the other tender nub before moving to follow the trail of his body hair lower.

Fíli sucked in a sharp breath as his brother kissed down the muscled planes of his abdomen. The sensation danced on the edge between sensual and ticklish. Seemingly aware of this, Kíli’s kisses firmed and left Fíli gasping for an entirely different reason. His cock had been steadily filling since Kíli’s hands had gone to his belt, but it gave a definite twitch of interest when the brunet bit a kiss into his hipbone.

“Fuck, Fíli, you’re so gorgeous. Can I taste you, atamanel [1]?”

Fíli looked down to the most arousing sight he had ever seen. At some point working his way downwards, Kíli had gone to his knees. He was looking up at Fíli, pupils blown so wide as to barely leave a glimpse of his usual dancing hazel, hands tracing the edge of his breeches and asking if he could go farther. The blond would happily give him anything he asked for, especially himself.

“Anything you want, Kí. I’m yours.”

With his permission given, Fíli whined when Kíli lost no time in unfastening the laces. Kiss swollen lips closed over his erection still trapped within his smallclothes, and Fíli bucked forward into the moist heat with a moan. His hips instinctively tried to follow Kíli when he pulled away, but strong hands kept him pinned to the wall.

“Just need to get these off, Fí,” Kíli smiled up at him happily. “Love you so much. I promise I’m going to make you feel good.” His nimble fingers carefully worked Fíli out of his smalls, careful not to catch them on his flushed prick. Once they were down to the blond’s knees, Kíli looked up and winked very deliberately. Keeping that eye contact, he licked up Fíli’s shaft to plant a sloppy kiss on the tip.

Fíli opened his mouth to tell him off for teasing, but whimpered instead when Kíli closed his mouth around the crown and began to bob his head, Fíli’s length sliding deeper on every pass. Once again, Fíli found his climax coiling faster than he would have liked. He pressed himself back into the cool wall, hoping it would draw off some of the urgent heat, tried to pay attention to _what_ Kíli was doing over the desire burning through him.

Unfortunately, focussing on the way Kíli’s tongue was tracing along his shaft and swallowing around him helped very little with slowing his onrushing release. Fíli found one hand clenching fingernails into his palm while the other tugged hard on a braid, using the slight pain to distract him.

“Mahal, Kí, that feels so incredible,” Fíli groaned. Kíli hummed around his cock, pleased, and his hands held Fíli from thrusting straight down his throat from the vibrations. Fíli wasn’t expecting the thrill that sparked when he was held immobile.

In spite of his efforts, Fíli’s climax hit unexpectedly swift. Kíli pulled back to lick into his slit, but what set him off in the end was the archer’s tongue pressing firm into the little divot beneath the crown. “Kí-i!” Fíli came with a strangled shout, knees going weak and leaving him to lean heavily into Kíli’s strong grip. The brunet kept licking and sucking as Fíli spent himself down his throat, halting only when Fíli whined from oversensitivity and weakly pushed at him.

Panting for breath and slick with sweat from the humid room, Fíli slid down the wall to rest on the floor, startled for a moment by bare skin touching stone. He closed his blue eyes for a moment in an effort to regain some composure. A beat later, Kíli’s warm weight settled into his lap.

“Did I keep my promise?” asked Kíli, nosing under his sweaty hair to kiss down his neck.

Fíli was confused. “Promise?”

“To make you feel good.”

He chuckled happily and tilted his head to allow Kíli better access. “You did indeed, kund-ê [2]. Thank you.” Fíli reached out to tug the brunet even closer, Kíli a comforting pressure against his chest. He would have been happy to remain that way for hours had the cooling sweat not turned clammy and unpleasant.

“So, did you bring me here just to do that, or are we going to take advantage of the baths?”

Kíli pushed himself off with a sheepish smile. “ _That_ was simply a very lovely bonus, Fí. I did say I would help redo your braids after we washed up after all.” The brunet stood and offered Fíli a hand up, but dropped back to his knees before Fíli could take it. “I suppose we’d best get these off first.” Kíli tugged the blond’s boots off, tossing each aside with a thud so Fíli could shuck his trousers.

Standing, Fíli was self-conscious for the first time since his layers had begun to come off. “I don’t think this is very fair, Kí.” He crossed his arms across his chest as he eyed his still-clothed brother. He felt himself flush under Kíli’s gaze, his hazel eyes taking in every inch of Fíli’s stocky, muscular form. Despite his nerves, he felt truly desirable with the open adoration from the archer.

Kíli smiled somewhat shyly as his hands went to his own sash. “I’m sorry, nadad. That hadn’t been my intention.” He stripped down quickly enough, only hesitating for a brief moment at the lacing of his smalls. It was that pause that drew Fíli’s attention to the fact he was still hard.

Thinking back on their few sexual interactions so far, it dawned on Fíli that Kíli had never asked Fíli to touch him in return. Even when Kíli had found a scrap of cloth to clean up with and pulled him into a distant corner of the library to stroke him off, all giggles, heated kisses, and attempts to be quiet; Kíli had distracted him before he could offer to reciprocate.

Determined to change that, Fíli slid over to Kíli to embrace him. He angled his body to brush against his brother’s erection, hoping Kíli would give him some direction as to what he wanted. Instead, Kíli did his best to shift so his cock wasn’t in contact with the blond at all. Confused and a touch hurt, Fíli pulled away.

“Do you not want me to pleasure you in return? Is it because I have no experience?”

“Oh, Fí, that’s not it at all. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I-it’s,” Kíli sighed, stepping forward to catch Fíli’s face between his hands and rubbed his thumbs over his neat beard. “I want you be sure _you_ want this. I know my feelings came as a surprise for you. I’m happy to give you all of myself, but this is no dalliance for me. If and when you reciprocate, I hope it’s because you are as committed to me as I am to you.”

Fíli was left speechless by Kíli’s words and the tenderness in his eyes. His lips parted as if to speak, but his mind was blank and his words trapped in his throat.

Taking his silence as answer, Kíli smiled though his eyes were sad. “It’s alright, Fíli. I can wait. I love you and that will never change. _You_ are my choice.” He kissed Fíli’s forehead gently before releasing his face, but the blond could see the tension in his back when he scooped up his clothes and strode over to one of the pumps.

Fíli hated to see Kíli so sorrowfully accepting, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his words. He didn’t want to cause him more pain by failing to reflect on his own feelings. There was already a deep emotional bond there, but did he truly desire Kíli physically beyond his body’s natural reactions to pleasure? With Kíli facing away and scrubbing at his clothes, it was a good opportunity to study his naked form.

As many times as he and Kíli had bathed or changed around each other, very little beyond basics had ever registered. He was just Kíli. So while he knew that Kíli had scars from skirmishes and training accidents or from his travels in the forest, it was different to see them all as one piece. He knew that Kíli was taller and leaner than most dwarves, but that was different to watching how his muscles flexed over his frame. For most of his life Kíli had been teased about not being attractive by dwarven standards, and Fíli had always assured him they were wrong; but that didn’t feel like this slow kindling realization that he found Kíli very attractive indeed. Seeing his scars painted across his skin somehow aided that edge of wildness that Fíli had always loved about him. He supposed that made him ‘undwarven’ as well.

“Do you want to pass me your clothing as well? We can hang it to dry while we bathe.” Kíli didn’t turn his way when he spoke or he would have seen Fíli’s awakening interest.

The squeal from the pump protesting Kíli’s use cut Fíli off before he could speak of that desire. The momentary pause gave him a chance to think of how...unpleasant his clothing had become over the past days. It still reeked of fish. As much as he longed to comfort his brother, Kíli could wait a little longer.

A few strides took him the first of his discarded pieces of clothing. With all of it gathered he moved to Kíli’s side; but rather than drop it for his brother to take care of, he sat himself down beside. Kíli looked over with a smile, dumping some of his water into another bucket and passing it and some soap to the blond. Working in comfortable silence side by side, it felt almost like being home. Fíli was glad that for all the changes to their relationship, this was still the same. It settled him in his decision that this new dimension would only add to what they had together.

Only once their clothes were wrung out and hung up to dry did Fíli break the silence. “I thought about what you said before.” Kíli’s head whipped around, dark hair flying and dark eyes wide. “It means a lot to me that once more you’ve considered my comfort above your own. I assure you however that I want this too. I want you.”

He was shocked by how quickly Kíli moved to wind him in his arms, one hand fisting in the hair at the base of Fíli’s skull. “Do you mean that, Fí? Because if you change your mind, it will be very difficult for me to return to how we have been.”

His growl sent shivers of anticipation down the swordsman’s spine. The hunger in Kíli’s eyes was thrilling. “I’m sure.”

Kíli groaned and crushed his mouth to Fíli’s. The heady kiss took the blond’s breath away and made him aware of how much Kíli had been holding back his hunger to that point. He felt swept away, caught up in the surging heat of Kíli’s smouldering lust. This time, the archer didn’t keep his lower body turned away and Fíli could feel him growing hard against his hip. Despite having found release only a short time ago, Fíli found himself responding.

He was panting when Kíli broke the kiss to allow them both a full breath.

“Mahal, Fí, wish I could fuck you.” His hands slid down the muscles to grip the full swells of his bottom, using the grip to grind their erections together with a groan.

Though he only had the basic idea of what that would entail, the suggestion sent a spike of curiosity and lust through him. “Why can’t you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Well, we don’t have any lubrication, for one. We need something to slick the way,” Kíli said fondly, a little breathless himself.

“Soap should be slick enough, shouldn’t it?” he asked, but Kíli was already shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Bubbles everywhere,” Kíli said solemnly. “It’s not an experience I would care to repeat.”

Fíli was wide-eyed. “Really?”

“No, not really,” Kíli chuckled. “But I’ve heard that soap in such sensitive places isn’t a good idea. Besides, it can be a little...tender after a first time. We don’t need you to be walking oddly if this whole situation turns into a fight.”

The blond could tell he was flushing from his brother’s gentle teasing. Kíli always had enjoyed the times when his knowledge proved greater than Fíli’s. He sobered a little at the mention of a potential battle, but his interest didn’t wane. “So what can we do then?”

He got his answer when Kíli grabbed his wrist and brought Fíli’s hand to his own hardened shaft. It was incredibly intimate, to be touching the silky skin of his brother’s cock. Curious, he traced his fingers along the thick vein and swiped his thumb over the head, noting absently that Kíli produced more slick than he did. He was gratified when Kíli moaned deep in his throat and shivered under his touch, making no move to stop Fíli’s explorations or to guide them. With that unspoken permission, Fíli took his time to experiment and find what Kíli liked best, the small shudders and noises he drew out of the archer sending his own arousal spiralling higher. The brunet had dropped his head forward onto Fíli’s shoulder, sometimes tracing stubbly kisses along his collarbone and neck, and sometimes watching the swordsman’s callused hand stroke along his length.

Fíli wasn’t sure how long he played before Kíli couldn’t endure the teasing touches that never quite firmed up enough to be truly satisfying any longer. He pulled the blond tight against him, tangling their fingers to stroke along their erections together. Fíli whined at the pressure, not realizing how long his cock had gone neglected as he focussed on Kíli. The smooth skin over the mythril of Kíli’s hardness against his own felt _incredible_ and his hips rutted forward into their combined grip.

It didn’t take long for Kíli to tighten their grip and force a faster pace, easing the way with slick. Fíli could tell he was trembling on the edge already, and he wasn’t far behind himself. A dozen hard strokes later, Kíli spilled over their hands with a loud cry. Fíli followed only moments later, watching Kíli come undone enough to spark his own climax. The brunet eased the pressure but stroked them through the aftershocks until they were both shaking and oversensitive. Fíli’s legs felt like iron left too long in the forge fire, and about as strong. He had a suspicion the only reason he and Kíli were still upright was because they were leaning against one another.

“Thank you, Fí,” were the first words from Kíli as they began to come down from their quaking, shivery high, followed swiftly by, “I guess we need that bath about now.”

Fíli looked down to see what his brother was talking about and started to laugh when he saw how much seed was drying in the hair of their chests and abdomens. “We do at that. It seems you were wise in holding off with this until we could clean up.”

Fortunately their problem was quickly solved by ducking under one of the pumps for a quick rinse. Free of spend, Fíli was about to climb into one of the pools when Kíli halted him.

“Hold for a moment, nadad. It looks like they were left in the mode that keeps the pools clean. The current will be too strong if you enter now. The book said there should be a lever – ah!” His eyes seized on a thick wooden lever set into the wall. With some effort, Kíli managed to raise it and they heard the grinding of gears somewhere behind the walls. A moment later the flow of water into the pools had slowed.

Marvelling at the endurance of dwarven architecture, Fíli slid into the nearest pool with a sigh. The hot water was achingly good against his battered body. He hadn’t had a chance to properly wash up since Rivendell, making do with quick scrubbings in rivers and basins.

And then he took one step too far and came up sputtering and gasping for air, Kíli laughing uproariously behind him. Apparently this pool had a few gradual steps before if dropped off. Fíli paddled back to the steps, splashing the still chuckling Kíli.

“Sorry, nadad, but you looked like a cat suddenly getting tossed a pond.”

When Kíli grabbed the soap and managed to produce a comb and a small bag from somewhere before joining him in the water, Fíli was tempted to push him in. He was too relaxed and sated to bother, instead he just settled onto the ledge beside his brother.

It felt incredible to lather up and scrub _weeks_ of accumulated grime from his skin. It was as if he could feel the stains of the journey peeling away from him. He almost imagined he could smell each moment again before they washed away: the burning of Laketown, the long days in the dungeons of the Elvenking, blood and ash from the confrontation with Azog, the stench of the goblin tunnels. After it was gone, he felt lighter but somehow also older and more tired, as if the toll taken over the journey had been absorbed through the act of cleaning his skin. Left behind were a few bruises, a few more scars. He glanced over at Kíli to see the same painted across his body.

“How is your arrow wound?” he asked quietly.

Sensing his need, Kíli shifted a few levels higher to let him see for himself. “Tauriel mentioned that due to the nature of the arrow, I will likely always get some twinges. But truly, Fí, it is much improved.”

Fíli was left awed by the healing skills of the elves. Just over a week ago that same injury had almost stolen his brother away, and yet it was almost healed, a reddened divot in fresh pink scar tissue. At the same time, he couldn’t quite let go of the knowledge Kíli would not have had it in the first place if the elves had not imprisoned them and halted their escape. Some impulse had him dropping a kiss over it, smiling at Kíli’s gasp. Fíli turned his face up to look at him, trying to let his eyes speak to how happy he was to be here with his brother now.

Kíli seemed to get the message, smiling back at him; he pulled Fíli in to straddle his lap and kissed him deeply. Nimble fingers removed the ties from his hair and moustache. Lurching movement startled him, Kíli sliding them both down a few tiers. Gentle hands untangled his hair.

“Lean back, Fí.”

Fíli groaned at the archer’s fingers firmly massaging in the soap until his flaxen waves were buried under foamy lather. He melted into Kíli, relaxing and just letting his lover take care of him. He almost purred when fingernails scratched across his scalp.

The brunet guided him to duck his hair once more, careful to rinse out all the soap. Then it was his turn to lean back, twisting and stretching to reach the comb. Fíli instinctively went to turn so Kíli could reach the back more easily, but firm hands on his hips stopped him.

“No, like this. I like seeing your face.”

Fíli easily acceded to him. His eyes fluttered shut at the first cautious strokes of the comb working through his hair. He lost himself in the in the soothing sensation of being cared for and the heat of the bathing pool.

“This is so much better than the baths back home. For once we don’t have to worry about the water going cold.”

Kíli laughed quietly, “so far, it’s the only thing about Erebor worth bothering with.” He kept the comb moving long after Fíli’s hair was smooth and shining. The blond nearly jumped in surprise at the click against stone when it was set down at last.

He moaned into Kíli’s mouth when the brunet pulled him into a deep kiss, strong fingers kneading the muscles of his back. Having the long tails of his moustache unbraided left it free to brush against their faces, and more irritatingly, to make its way into their mouths and stick to Kíli’s stubble. They were both left picking hair out of their mouths when the kiss broke.

“Should probably start with that,” Kíli said with a rueful grin. If only took moments for his practiced hands to finish a tidy braid. Only then did Fíli learn what was in the small bag he had half-forgotten was even there. Kíli reached in to retrieve an intricately carved wooden bead to cap the braid.

Curious, Fíli lifted the braid in an attempt to get a better look, but it wasn’t quite long enough. He had to resort to distracting Kíli with another kiss so he could reach in and pull out another bead. Kíli made a half-hearted attempt to stop him from studying it more closely, but quickly sighed and gave in.

It was carved from a dark oak with Kíli’s usual level of facility. The archer had been regarded as a master of wood carving and leatherwork by the time he hit seventy. No, the truly surprising thing was seeing Kíli’s sigil carved intertwined with his own.

Fíli looked up, blue eyes wide, to find Kíli blushing but still meeting his gaze. “Kíli, when?”

“Late night watches were dull. At first it was just to keep myself busy, but after you lost your beads to the elves in Mirkwood I figured you would need more, though I didn’t have the wood to make new ones with a different pattern.” He ducked his head in shame. “These are why I said that foolish thing to Tauriel. I saw the guard find your last dagger and I panicked that she might search me. It was the only thing I could think of to dissuade her from going anywhere near me.”

Fíli chuckled. “It wasn’t quite my last dagger, Kí. I had another pair strapped to my calves.”

“You’re such a hedgehog, the way you’re bristling with weapons,” Kíli smiled fondly at him.

“Is that crude remark why you were friendly to her later?”

The archer nodded in response, hands moving to braid the other half of his moustache. “I hoped to make up for saying something so crass. Amad would have smacked me for speaking so to a woman. I was surprised to find conversation with her more enjoyable than I had expected, from the attitudes the others had towards us.” Fíli handed him the bead to cap off his braid, but Kíli had to lean back and exchange it for the appropriate size.

“I never thought I would have cause to feel so grateful for your tendency to befriend folk wherever you go. Speaking to Tauriel may well be the reason she saved your life, nadad.” He halted Kíli reaching to begin another braid, wrapping his arms around him. “I must thank her once more the next time we meet. I feel as though I will always be indebted to her.”

Kíli’s arms wound around him in return. “I don’t think she regards the deed in the same way. Perhaps a hand offered in friendship would be more valued than a debt.”

“Friendship with an elf? Thorin would not be pleased.”

This time, Kíli’s laugh was bitter. “Thorin is pleased by very little these days. I’m unsure that his opinions are the most reliable any longer.”

Fíli hummed in agreement and let the topic go. His time with Kíli had been far too pleasant to dwell on it any longer; he had been wasting enough time on that dross. He did his best to let his mind drift again with the familiar feeling of Kíli plaiting his hair neatly. He felt like himself once more when his usual braids were in place. Kíli had even carved a wooden hairclip to match, pulling the front portion of his hair out of his face. He had to admire the way the dark wood looked against his gingery blond hair. With recent events, he was less than enamoured with the usual dwarven adornments.

“Did you have the foresight to carve one of these for yourself?”

Kíli shook his head regretfully. “I never had a chance after Mirkwood. It’s not been much of a priority with all else that has happened, and I only lost mine to the river.”

While Kíli may have had little more than a leather thong to tie his hair back, Fíli enjoyed returning the favour. It was almost as relaxing as having his own washed to bury his fingers in Kíli’s silky waves. He wished he could put braids in his brother’s hair, but the same property about it that prevented it from tangling too badly no matter how it was blown around also prevented braids from staying for longer than a few hours.

Even after they were washed and hair redone neatly, the pair was in no hurry to leave the bathing pool. The hours ticked by pleasantly; cuddling, kisses, and conversation served as a respite from the pressure weighing on their shoulders since they had arrived at their mountain. Fíli was loath to climb out of the soaking pool, but eventually the feeling of being waterlogged overcame the pleasant side. At least they had spent enough time in the water that their clothes had entirely dried despite the humid air.

Fíli paused before the door with his hand resting on the latch.

“Is everything alright, Fí?”

He slumped on a sigh. “It just feels like this has been a sanctuary, and everything comes crashing down as soon as we leave. We’ve been working so hard to find answers and have nothing to show for it. The men and elves will arrive at our doorstep any day, and I don’t know what I can do to make Thorin see reason.”

“It’s true; we have nothing to show for our work.” Fíli slumped further at the confirmation of his fears. “But there’s one thing you got wrong.” Strong hands grabbed him and spun him to face Kíli. “It’s not all up to you, atamanel [3]. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you, my King.”

Looking up at the archer in that moment, he was struck by Kíli’s strength, freely offered. It wasn’t the usual stolid dwarven strength, carven from stone. Kíli was wilder, more like the trees of the forests he spent so much time in. And like a tree, he had proven over and over that he would bend rather than break, no matter how much he endured. They would need that resilience.

“Thank you, Kí. I’m not sure what I would do without your support.”

“I would not wish to be without you either, Fí,” he smiled, breaking the serious mood that had fallen. “I believe we aren’t so alone. Bilbo has been helping us the whole time, and Bifur and Bombur have provided their silent approval.”

Fíli smiled with the reminder. He would have to make those named aware of how thankful he was for even this small willingness to go against the others.

“Are you prepared?”

After taking a moment to steel himself and square his shoulders, he set his hand to the latch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] love of all loves
> 
> [2] my wolf
> 
> [3] love of all loves


	10. Arms and Armouring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siege of the mountain begins.

In the end it was Bifur who managed to find that moment Fíli had been searching for. He pulled the heir away briefly when the others were absorbed with a tricky piece of stonework.

“Men aktibi kulhu mênu tamahhiîn,” [1] Bifur said, and for a moment Fíli’s heart jumped into his throat. Thorin had already threatened to avenge himself on anyone who withheld the Arkenstone. What consequences would he have for Kíli and Fíli if he heard they were considering how they might negotiate with those he regarded as his foes?

His worries were dispelled when the old warrior slapped him on the back with something approaching approval in his eyes. “Mênu Kíli tamahhiîn ughur. Mamashagul bagl urdar bahûn mushug. Mênu shagm id-a’zâg omathrigi farkh Thorin.” [2]

The heir gripped his shoulder in return. “I care not, that you approve of our actions carries means much to me. I would welcome your advice at any time.”

It seemed that Fíli’s confidence in Bifur straightened his spine, and Fíli could see a spark kindle in his eyes. “Dasekh mênu, uzbad-dashat. Demup telek mênu.” [3]

Before they could speak further, Bifur was beckoned away to help with the recalcitrant stone block. He left Fíli much more assured of his chosen path.

* * *

When the Company finished their dinner that evening, Thorin stood with a grave expression on his face. “As I lingered on the battlements this evening, Roäc arrived with news. The thieves are on their way to the mountain and should arrive on the morrow.”

Instantly the dwarves erupted into chaos, shouting over each other until no one could be heard clearly. Finally Thorin’s voice thundered over the din.

“ _Itkiti! [4]_ The wall is complete, and we will go to the armoury and equip ourselves with dwarven forged steel. We will not give in to these thieves who think to lay claim to _our treasure!_ ” His fist struck his chest in emphasis and the others roared in agreement.

Fíli turned away, hoping to fade out of notice in the clamour. He had no desire to watch the others exult about the possibilities of a fight.

“Fíli, Kíli, with me please?”

The heir was shocked by the request. Thorin had disregarded him and Kíli since they had arrived at the mountain, unless they were disagreeing with him of course. There was little they could do but see what he wanted of them.

The others went ahead to the armoury while Thorin drew them into a side chamber, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed up at a carven statue. “I wanted to thank the two of you for your dedicated search for the Arkenstone. It is unfortunate that you have not yet located it, but there is no more time.” Turning, Thorin clapped the pair of them on their shoulders. “I am proud of you, my sister-sons. You have done well on this journey.”

Thorin’s approving smile filled Fíli with a sick sense of guilt. The lies they had told were building up, but at the same time he was certain they were doing the right thing. He did his best to react as he would have in the past at Thorin’s praise, simple enough when part of him _was_ elated to receive words that he had always worked so hard to earn. He could see Kíli attempting the same with somewhat less success, though Thorin was not attentive enough to notice.

“Come. I would see you armed and armoured as the Princes of Erebor you are. Those who would steal from us will arrive to see the line of Durin standing strong. When Dáin reaches the mountain, we will send them away with the _nothing_ they deserve.”

They followed him in silence. Fíli couldn’t speak for his brother, but he suspected Kíli shared in his wistful thoughts, longing to have back their _uncle,_ who they had been proud to follow on this quest. Thorin looked very different with all the adornment he had retrieved from the hoard, along with the Raven Crown that Fíli had thought lost with Thrór at Azanulbizar. Still, Fíli supposed a spare being kept safe would not be unusual.

Arriving at the enormous main armoury by the guard barracks, Thorin instantly lead them to the most ornate suits of armour. The swordsman caught Kíli’s look of distaste, but fortunately Thorin did not.

“Only the finest armour for my sister-sons. I think this would suit you well, my heir.”

Thorin was indicating a particularly flamboyant ceremonial suit, all gold and gems with no substance whatsoever. Fíli imagined he would feel much like a turtle if he was ever downed under the weight of that monstrosity, and it would do little to turn aside a blade should it come down to battle. Still, he struggled to think of an objection that Thorin would not immediately discount.

“Uncle...,” he began, trying frantically to consider his options as Thorin’s face shaded through expressions from pleased to thunderous in the pause. “Would it not be better to reserve this armour for your coronation? We should wear something simpler for now.”

“If this becomes war with the men and elves, I will not be able to fire a bow while wearing that armour,” Kíli added. “It was not intended for such purposes.”

“And it could become damaged,” Fíli cut in, worried Thorin would take offense.

Thorin sighed but looked resigned rather than furious. His gaze was distant once more when he waved them off. “Very well, you are aware of how to arm yourselves. Help each other find appropriate gear and make sure Dwalin approves your choices, as Warmaster.”

Fíli regretted the guttering of the brief spark where Thorin had seemed more himself, but it was not worth the potential cost. He and Kíli left Thorin staring at the heavy ceremonial pieces and moved on to the main portion of the armoury. There, they found racks upon racks of all the pieces of armour maintained for the guard.

Just like back home, Kíli was a challenge to fit. The archer had an unusually slim build overall for a dwarf, and with his height most of the pieces long enough were intended for a frame such as Dwalin’s. The long years of neglect meant careful inspection of the leather harness was also necessary, and more than one breastplate or backpiece failed to pass for that reason. In the end, a suit of splint mail suited best. Though Fíli was concerned it was less durable than plate, Kíli would be best served by good mobility and armour which actually fit. Most of the heavier armour hung on him much like a bell, and about as useful in battle.

With his stockier frame, Fíli had a much simpler task in finding plate that suited. Under their breastplates, both he and Kíli donned long chain tunics, though they fit awkwardly over their borrowed clothing. With gorgets, helms, vambraces, and greaves added, along with pauldrons for Fíli, they were well armoured for whatever might come. That settled, it was time to re-arm. The weapons from Laketown were hardly adequate and Fíli felt strangely vulnerable without his usual array of blades.

Stepping into the weaponry portion of the armoury was somewhat akin to the first time he’d been permitted to play with Bofur and Bifur’s fantastical toys as a dwarfling. The guards at Erebor were trained in a huge variety of weapons, and it showed in the rows of choices stretching before him. Even here he could see the legacy of Smaug’s arrival however. There were gaps where weapons had been hoisted without being replaced and clear signs of urgency in others that had been knocked askew or to the floor.

“Fí, they have _bows_ ,” Kíli’s gleeful whisper-shout shook him from his observations.

The swordsman smiled fondly after his brother as he headed directly to the small rack of archery equipment. It was a pitiful selection compared to that available for other weaponry, but Fíli had some small idea of the vindication his brother was feeling at finding bows in the main armoury of Erebor. He just hoped one of Kíli’s preferred recurves had survived the long years.

Leaving Kíli to his excited explorations, Fíli turned to the swords. His twin scamasax blades had been one of his first successful attempts as a bladesmith, and he regretted their loss to the Mirkwood guards. Hopefully there would be a similarly matched pair to be found, though his specialty was almost as rare as Kíli’s. Most preferred paired axes, like Dwalin or Glóin.

He scarce registered Kíli joining him on his own search for a sword, bow in hand and a delighted expression firmly in place; too absorbed in weighing and checking the balance of any likely-looking blade. Despite the craftsmanship and vast selection, he was repeatedly disappointed. Not _one_ felt as natural in his hands as his own; nor as well-balanced to wield as a pair. He was on the verge of giving up when a smaller blade close to the end of one of the rows caught his eye. He was delighted to see when he reached it that it was part of a pair. Lifting one in each hand, Fíli made a few experimental sweeps and spins to check their feel.

“Have you found your swords then?”

The swordsman looked up from a particularly complex pass to see Kíli smiling at him with that bright spark of affection he’d failed to recognize for so long. Now that he knew what it meant, it warmed him through. “They aren’t _my_ blades, but they will serve. Did you find a bow to your liking?”

Kíli grinned brightly and struck a pose with the recurve he’d found. Less distinctly carved than the bow his brother had fashioned for himself, it still seemed serviceable enough. “This was one of the few which survived, but it’s in good condition. The draw is even heavier than my own, which should be a benefit.” Unspoken went his thought ‘ _to punch through armour’_ , but both of them knew the only reason a stronger bow would be used.

Keen hazel eyes took in Fíli’s gear. “I see you have not yet replenished your stock of knives, zirik-muzm [5]. Shall we do that next?”

The old teasing insult made Fíli chuckle, aiming a lazy punch to Kíli’s shoulder. “You would do well to carry more yourself, nadad. If you did, you might have avoided that time with the trap gone wrong.” He cast about for a sheath for his new blades.

“That was years ago, Fí!” Kíli protested as a dull flush spread across his cheeks. “How was I to know I would lose my hunting knife in the river? You know perfectly well that I always carry at least three blades now.” His expression sobered. “More tomorrow. I have learned on this journey how quickly weapons can be lost. I should not like to face Bard with nought but river rocks this time.” A heavy pause fell before he continued in a whisper, “I should not like to face him at _all_.”

Fíli sheathed his blades before moving to Kíli and pulling him down to rest their brows together comfortingly. He should have liked to kiss him but it was not a good time to risk their change in relationship becoming public knowledge.

“Thorin is right about one thing, brother. We will face them tomorrow proudly, as true sons of Durin rather than ragged beggars. We know Bard is a reasonable man, and we yet have time before Dáin is due to arrive. There must be a way to set this right.”

* * *

The next morning dawned clear and chill. Thorin urged the Company to breakfast and arm themselves with haste so all might be present to greet their visitors. It seemed that the elves and men did not share his sense of urgency however, for there was no sign of them at all until mid-afternoon. By the time they arrived, the Company, who had been so fired up with righteous indignation that morning, were sitting around aimlessly.

Fíli had not considered it the previous night, but it had been odd he and Kíli were alone in their section of the armoury. The answer to that was revealed when the others had kitted up in nobleman’s armour. It was more practical than the golden monstrosity Thorin had chosen, but the elegant gilding and enamel would still be out of place on a battlefield. Worse, some of the protrusions would serve to guide blades directly to vulnerable areas rather than away. Balin’s helm was a particularly good example of this folly. He had to wonder if any of their party were wearing armour which had been their own. Glóin’s especially seemed made to fit.

With all this finery, Fíli and Kíli stood out like coal among diamonds. Bilbo as well, though Fíli could see what appeared to be mythril peeking out from his collar. If he was correct, it showed the regard Thorin had come to hold their burglar in. He was glad of it though. Bilbo was no trained warrior and would need all the protection he could get if this came down to a battle.

It was Bilbo in the end who first spotted the approaching forces. His cry of “oh, they’re here,” brought everyone to their feet to peer over the rampart. He had been the only one standing, pacing and wringing his hands with nervous energy. Even for a dwarf, standing in full armour for hours on end was a tiring prospect.

“You have keen eyes, Master Baggins,” Thorin commended him. The older members of the Company continued to grumble and squint, trying to make out more than an approaching blur. Óin in particular had difficulty, and in keeping with their slow pace, it was some time before he got a clear view. Time in which the apothecary steadily grew more irritable.

With their younger eyes, Fíli and Kíli had long since taken stock of the forces arrayed in front of them. The heir felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when he took in the sheer numbers. All chances of persuading Thorin to negotiate seemed lost, for an army this size must come with _demands_. Only a few of the men marched in any sort of order, and had they come alone the pitiful remnants of Laketown might have been enough to move Thorin to pity.

If only they had not been joined by elves! Ranks of elven warriors kept to carefully ordered rows, their arms and armour gleaming in the weak winter sunlight. At their head rode Thranduil on his mighty elk, Bard on a white horse at his side. Fíli could almost feel the waves of fury rolling off of Thorin at the sight of the man so clearly allied to the elves.

For once, he could understand the depths of Thorin’s feeling. It must scorch him to see the elves so openly aiding those dispossessed by the dragon when no such kindness was extended when Erebor fell. On this same field Thranduil had turned away from the plight of the dwarves.

At the same time, he could not sympathize with Thorin’s intransigence. All his life, Fíli’s teachers had impressed upon him that personal feelings could not be permitted to influence his decisions as King. There was no benefit to their people if Erebor was invaded by men and elves, or in the lives lost in senseless battle, or in the destruction of the alliances they would need. Still, he did his best keep faith that the Uncle he thought he knew would realize this. Would drop his posturing and realize they were in no position to refuse, only negotiate.

He wasn’t certain whether Kíli was seeking to give or receive comfort, but his brother’s presence close by his side was a welcome one. The archer’s fingers surreptitiously caught and tangled with his own when the elves and men fully emerged onto the plateau before the mountain. Rather than approach immediately however, they set to making camp.

Most of the Company lost interest in their activities and sprawled once more on the stone. Fíli was unsure what the leaders intended with this delay, but he feared they may have miscalculated. Rather than boredom or exhaustion, he could see Thorin’s fury burning stronger with their clear intentions to remain until their demands were met.

By the time Thranduil and Bard remounted and rode to the Gate, the scene was lit by the flickering light of torches. They approached as near as they could with the River Running having been dammed to form a pool before the walls.

“Hail and well-met, Thorin, King under the Mountain,” Bard called. “I am pleased to find you well against all hope. We feared the dragon had destroyed you.”

“Well-met?” Thorin began as Fíli winced. “I would not say ‘well-met’ when you come armed to my doorstep. The dragon is slain, what need have you for a warlike host of men and elves to call upon my kingdom?”

Not the most diplomatic response, but Fíli could appreciate his point. Unfortunately, he feared he may also know the answer. Bard and Thranduil both held something of the febrile light which had been present in the eyes of the Company since Esgaroth. If Thorin had first fallen under its spell there, it stood to reason others would as well.

“In these wild lands, it serves well to use caution. An orc pack attacked my home after your departure, there may be others.” Bard’s tone held censure, knowing his home had been a target because of them even before the dragon. “ _Thranduil_ was generous enough to lend his warriors to our cause.” He clapped once and spread his arms expansively. “But come, why do you fence yourself in like a robber in his hole? Will you not come down and speak with us?”

“Hah, I have seen the _generosity_ of Thranduil. What price does he ask of you for his aid? He is a false friend. He will discard you when your alliance is no longer convenient for him,” Thorin snarled to the cheers of the Company. “Perhaps I have fenced myself in to defend against those same orcs you felt the need to bring an army to combat.” Bard winced slightly at that rejoinder.

Thorin smiled before continuing in a clipped tone. “I will come down and speak with you only once the elves have departed. I have no words I would care to share with the likes of _him_.”

“I am afraid that I cannot do. Thranduil is an ally, I have no power to bid him stay or go. He is here for his own reasons as well.”

Thranduil, who had up to that point been content to sit with an infuriating smirk on his face, spoke. “You hoard in that mountain an heirloom of my house. I will see it returned to me through whatever means necessary.”

The naked threat of his elven army arrayed before them sent a chill down Fíli’s spine and he reflexively gripped Kíli’s hand tighter. Though they had shored up the Gate, their small Company would stand little chance against such a host.

“Is Uncle truly going to throw away our lives for a handful of gems and an old grudge?” Kíli whispered in horror. Fíli could only shake his head silently, waiting for the world to make sense again. As far as he was concerned, a mound of gold was not worth one drop of blood. Not when there was more than enough to benefit them all.

Rather than fear, Thranduil’s words inspired rage in most of the rest. Fíli heard furious muttering about defending their gold from that...the insults levelled in his direction were many and varied. Fortunately, Thorin had claimed his right to be the sole speaker, and so they were limited to grumbles and the occasional wordless cries of indignation. Fíli would not wish to find out if the Elvenking would respond with anger or indifference.

Thorin agreed with the Company’s anger over Fíli’s fear. His tone was biting. “Ah, yes, the stones you wished in ransom after you wrongfully imprisoned us. Of course _Thranduil_ holds a handful of gems above dwarven lives.”

Fíli choked on the sheer hypocrisy of that statement.

“And what would your greed demand of me, Lake-man?” Thorin turned to Bard.

“I would have you honour your bargain; for now we have need of the gold you promised to rebuild Esgaroth. For felling the beast that invaded your home and in payment for the destruction of mine, I would ask for one-twelfth share of the gold.”

For all of his reasonable tone, it was an absurd demand. Either he had no idea how much wealth there was in the mountain, or he had been just as afflicted by greed. One-twelfth share was enough to rebuild Laketown a _hundred_ times over. While Fíli wanted to aid the men, the amount Bard asked of them was obscene. There could be little hope of negotiating with such a starting point.

“Why should I spend the coin of my inheritance to compensate for the destruction Smaug caused? He was no ally of mine for whom I might pay wergild. We lost as much as you to his ravages, where should we turn for reparations?

“Indeed, you have my sister-sons to thank that your losses were no worse. Will you be allocating a portion of the treasure you demand to Kíli? After all, it was he who granted you the opportunity to kill Smaug.”

Emotions warred in Fíli’s chest. He was so pleased for his brother that Thorin was at last acknowledging his achievement, but he knew it was only in order to assert himself over Bard.

For his part, Bard looked slightly shaken by Thorin’s rejoinder; but it did not take him long to recover his self-possession. “No ally, no, but it was _you_ who roused him to set upon Laketown. It seems only fitting that you pay compensation and that your heirs prevented the losses from being more severe. They have our gratitude for their courageous actions, but there are others far more in need of compensation than they. Especially with the coming onset of winter.”

Bard’s voice turned pleading. “All I am asking is that you honour your word! Master Baggins testified that you were honourable when you swore gold in return for our aid. Now the positions are reversed, will you not return our generosity?”

“Who are you to speak of generosity? What choice did I have, Lakeman?” Thorin spat out. “Had I not promised to assuage your greed, your guardsmen would have imprisoned us! We _never_ would have been able to reclaim our home. You are scarce better than Thranduil, asking us to honour a bargain made under such terms. To ransom ourselves with our inheritance. Even now, you are asking for aid backed up with a show of naked force, only we are not so entirely at your mercy. No, we owe you _nothing_.”

“It is not just you who has claim to inheritance of the wealth of the mountain however, for Smaug did not only steal from the dwarves. As Girion’s heir, I may lay claim to the treasures of Dale.” Bard’s face was hard as he laid out his demands. “I ask for one-twelfth share, from which I will give to the aid of the people of Esgaroth and compensate the elves. I will return for your answer in two days time.”

Bard had changed from the man who had taken them in. Fíli could not imagine how the intervening days had shaped him. He would not have expected Bard to take such a role of leadership, nor to claim his position as heir to Girion. It seemed his hopes for a peaceful resolution were slipping through his fingers. When _Thranduil_ was making the most reasonable request, there was little hope of coaxing Thorin into negotiation. Despite the temptation, he continued to hold his tongue. Thorin had never reacted well to being questioned in front of others; there was no telling what he would do in his present mood.

“You may have my answer now,” Thorin roared. He tried to rip Kíli’s bow from his hands, but even startled, Kíli kept a firm grasp on his weapon. The King snarled at his sister-son and resorted to hurling a chunk of masonry at their feet instead. It lacked the impact of an arrow, but Bard and Thranduil received his message nevertheless. The Elvenking sneered regally before turning his elk to ride away. Bard’s expression was sadder, but he prepared to follow.

“Remember, Thorin-King. We will return in two days,” he called over his shoulder.

Thorin was seething with rage as he glared after their retreating backs and Fíli feared his brother would bear the brunt of it. Whether for good or ill, Bilbo spoke before Thorin could turn his fury upon the Company.

“What are you thinking, Thorin? Thranduil and Bard have an army of elves at their backs, not to mention several dozen angry fishermen!” Bilbo demanded of him. “We cannot fight them.”

“Dáin is on his way; do not so quickly discount the strength of my people.” The heir was relieved that Thorin seemed more indulgent than infuriated with Bilbo’s outburst.

“I do not wish to imply that dwarves are weaker than the others at all, Thorin. But even if Dáin arrives before their deadline, what then? Lives lost for _gold_? A portion of the treasure is not _worth_ that.”

“They ask for much, Uncle, but should we not at least attempt negotiation before we turn to war?” Kíli asked beseechingly.

It was precisely the wrong moment for him to speak. All of Thorin’s banked rage exploded at the archer. “Would you defy your King, you impudent dwarfling? How dare you deny me your weapon when I have need of it?” His hands rose as if he wanted to grasp Kíli and shake him, but they clenched into fists when Thorin realized he would find no purchase on the polished surface of the armour.

Kíli’s bewildered and hurt expression wrenched at Fíli’s heart. “Uncle, I-I...” he stammered, unsure of how to respond. Fíli shared his distress. The King’s face was distorted to a twisted mask they had never before seen directed their way.

But Bilbo had no such difficulty. “Listen to yourself, Thorin! Even leaving out the foolishness of shooting at them, how would you react if another suddenly tried to seize your weapon? Do not turn your distrust of those at the gate upon your own kin.”

Thorin was in no mood to be reasoned with. “Perhaps I would not be so quick to distrust them if they were not so quick to echo my enemies.”

“But they don’t _have_ to be our enemies,” Fíli burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. “That is all we are trying to say. Bard _helped_ us,  Irak-adad [6], he took us in once more after you left and all others turned us away. And though I have no love for the elves of Mirkwood, a single necklace is a small thing to ask. I would happily give him that and more, for it was his captain Tauriel who healed my brother.”

His uncle scoffed and turned away, but some of the others murmured in consideration. Fíli could see Bofur bumping heads with Glóin and Dwalin as they discussed the events in Laketown.

“I am certain that your brother would have been fine with only Óin to aid him. That is why I left him there, to heal before rejoining us. I will give this Tauriel my thanks, but the actions of one elf do not pay the debts they owe for turning away while Erebor burned. I _will not_ concede to that _caragu rukhs [7]_ Thranduil. Any right he had to the treasure was voided when he refused to defend it from the dragon.”

Aghast, Fíli could only stare at the stranger his uncle had become. The stranger who had baldly identified the treasure as more important to defend than the welfare of their people. All the fear and uncertainty of watching the Company’s descent into madness bubbled out of him in a near scream. “HE ALMOST DIED, THORIN! YOU _ABANDONED_ KÍLI ON THOSE DOCKS TO DIE!”

The heir paused to take in the wide-eyed expressions of those who had gone on ahead, drawing in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. The four who had been there had agreed to remain silent on how serious Kíli’s situation had become, for the Thorin of old would have been consumed with guilt. Indeed, for the first time in days there was something other than the fierce light of gold shining in Thorin’s eyes, but it soon faded and Fíli's hope faded with it. Fíli could actually see the moment when the King slid back into place to cover his uncle’s horror.

His brother’s hand firm on his shoulder reminded him that Kíli had lived, that his brother was there to support him. It was this which granted him the steadiness to speak again before the forbidding face of the King.

His voice was tight and pained when he continued. “Perhaps if you had allowed Óin to treat Kíli as soon as he was wounded it would have been enough. Or used your new position in the Master’s good graces once it was clear he needed help. With the delay, by the time we found the herbs to draw out the poison, it would have been too late had Tauriel not offered her aid.”

Óin cut in with his agreement. “It was a strange weapon indeed which struck the lad down, Thorin. That orc had shattered a Morgul blade and bound shards to arrow shafts. Even broken, the evil of that blade lingered. I fear Fíli may give me too much credit, for the art of treating such injuries is lost to the Sigin-târag.” [8]

“And without Kíli and his warning, we would not have had time to flee Laketown before the dragon was upon us. Smaug would still live, and all would be lost.”

“You exaggerate, Fíli, Óin. The situation could not have been so dire as that. The Enemy has long since been defeated; there are no weapons of that ilk remaining. As such, there is no injury a dwarf could endure which only an _elf_ could heal.” Thorin paused to survey Kíli, a detached expression blanking his face. “Perhaps if your brother were more a dwarrow he would not have come so close to death.”

The swordsman could feel the moment Thorin’s words struck home. Kíli flinched as if he had taken a blow, a strangled whimper held deep in his throat. His silence was in contrast to the others as Thorin’s words at last stepped over a line. A chorus of protests rang out at his labelling of his sister-son as undwarven for succumbing to injury, though none louder than Óin and Bilbo. Those on the quest had never been among those who scorned Kíli, and every one of them had been impressed by him on their journey.

Fíli himself had no more words left, not to argue with the King who had stolen his uncle away. His eyes were steady on Kíli’s back as he limped away. It was as if Thorin’s words had opened his wound afresh, though Fíli knew it was a very different kind of injury which had been torn open that day. Still, his heart beat faster with the fear that Kíli had relapsed.

Bilbo’s voice rose over the clamour, “you have changed, Thorin, from the dwarrow who I met in Bag End. Do you even know how much?” as Fíli turned and left silently, following in Kíli’s wake. It seemed nothing he could say would sway his King, but he could be there for his Kíli.

He trailed the archer all the way to a room near the library; unsure whether to speak or remain silent, unsure if Kíli knew he was there at all. Never before had their uncle expressed any sort of agreement with those who derided Kíli for his unusual skills, though he had always argued for him to learn the traditional ones as well. Hearing those words from one so deeply respected must have been devastating.

Indeed, Kíli collapsed to his knees with a clatter after only a half-dozen steps past the threshold, near silent sobs shaking through him. He tore off his helmet in clear frustration, sending it skittering into a corner.

Fíli remained in the entryway, numb with shock. How had reclaiming Erebor come to this? Their return to the mountain was supposed to be a joyful occasion. It was not supposed to end with their uncle with a gleam of madness in his eyes cutting down his brother and prepared to trade all their lives for a cold pile of gold. The swordsman had not seen Kíli cry like this since he had to share the news of their father’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I know what you're doing.
> 
> [2] You and Kíli are doing the correct thing. There is something rotten in this mountain, the others are sick. I regret that my opinion would carry little weight with Thorin.
> 
> [3] Thank you, my prince. Honour acts through you.
> 
> [4] Silence!
> 
> [5] needle-mouse, hedgehog
> 
> [6] Uncle
> 
> [7] orc dung
> 
> [8] Durin's Folk


	11. Hjalli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn what happened to Fili and Kili's father years before, and Fili seeks reassurance of Kili's health.

_Fíli had been eagerly awaiting the return of the latest hunting and scouting party. Usually he would have gone with them, but as he had recently passed his fortieth year, Thorin had decided it was time he experienced command of their settlement. It had only been intended to be for a fortnight, but close to when they had been meant to return, Fíli had received a missive informing him of a delay. Signs of orc raiding parties had been discovered too close to their settlement for security. They would be remaining in the wilds until the orcs had been hunted down and destroyed._

_The heir had been eager to lead out another patrol in support, not least because Kíli and Hjalli were among those gone with Thorin, but Balin and Dís had dissuaded him._

_“Fíli, if you take another party out, you would be leaving the settlement with very little defense,” Balin had pointed out. “Besides which, it is likely you would not reach them in time to be of assistance. Best to look after Thorinuldûm [1] as your King asked, lad.” Balin’s face had been sympathetic but firm._

_“But Kíli, Adad [2]...” he had protested weakly, turning to his mother for support._

_But Dís had already been shaking her head. “I know you wish to protect your brother, but you must learn to believe in him. The pair of you fight brilliantly by each other’s sides, but you will have to become accustomed to doing so apart as well. As King, you will not always be able to remain at his side, nor he at yours.”_

_Fíli’s face had crumpled, but their objections had been more than reasonable. He had remained in the settlement._

_In the near two weeks which had passed since then, Fíli had thrown himself into his duties. Every moment he was not occupied with some task only gave opportunity for the refrain of ‘_ what if _’ running through his mind, all of the terrible scenarios which could have befallen the group. He took to spending long hours in the forge as well, hoping to collapse into bed too exhausted to dream. A side benefit was an additional pair of blades to conceal in his clothing, plus a whole pile of arrowheads to present to Kíli when he returned. As the days dragged on with no news, he was having a more difficult time ignoring the part of him that whispered ‘_ if _’ instead of ‘_ when _’._

_He knew what their mother thought, but it was not that Fíli lacked faith in his brother’s abilities: he was unused to remaining behind while others faced danger. His admiration for his mother increased when he realized she frequently was left in their settlement as Thorin’s second while her husband, sons, or brother were away. How she managed he did not know. Fíli felt himself crumbling like sandstone under the pressure of leading the settlement with Kíli off facing orcs. The pair were usually inseparable, Kíli’s skill with a bow earning him a place as a caravan guard at the same time as Fíli despite being young for it._

_In truth, their five years of difference had ceased to matter, the closest in age of any dwarven siblings they had seen. After Kíli had met twins once in a town of men, he had teased that he and Fíli were the dwarven equivalent. A jest, but one both felt held truth. Fíli was unused to holding such responsibility without his brother there to support him._

_Stumbling exhausted home from the forge that night, Fíli at first believed the sight of Kíli swaying uncertainly before their door was a phantom conjured from his longing thoughts. He blinked furiously and rubbed at his tired eyes, but the image of his brother did not waver. Joy and relief welled within him at the dawning realization that Kíli was_ home _._

_“Nadad!” he shouted joyously as he broke into a shambling jog, spreading his arms wide to embrace Kíli in welcome._

_Fíli was only a few strides from the archer when he turned, and the blond crashed to a halt when he read the devastation on his brother’s face. “What’s wrong, Kí? Are you hurt?”_

_Kíli shook his head in answer, a single tear rolling through the grime on his cheek. They had clearly travelled hard; closer now Fíli could see the brunet trembling. Instinctively he stepped closer and cupped Kíli’s stubbled jaw, his thumb stretching out to brush away the tear._

_“Is it...Thorin?” he asked in a hushed voice. Ever since he had learned of what it meant to be heir, and how early Thorin had been forced to take up the mantle of King, Fíli had feared the same fate. But once more Kíli shook his head. Relief warred with fear, for what could possibly have gone wrong to leave Kíli so sorrowful? “Dwalin?” Shake. “Gripnar?” Shake. “Indra?” Shake. Member after member of the patrol he named, always receiving a negative response._

_“Then who?” Fíli demanded, his pent up concern giving his voice a sharper edge than he had intended._

_A few more tears slipped from Kíli’s eyes as he closed them, a tremor shaking through him. “Adad,” [3] he croaked._

_At first, Fíli’s mind simply refused to process. “How badly was he hurt, Kí? Are the others taking him to the infirmary while you fetch Amad [4] and me?”_

_Kíli’s hazel eyes were bloodshot and sorrowful but steady when they opened to meet Fíli’s fearful blue. “Not ‘hurt’, Fí.”_

_The blond’s thoughts raced with attempts to deny the reality that Kíli had left unvoiced, but deep in his heart he knew the painful truth. “How?”_

_His brother shook his head in denial once more. “May I tell Amad at the same time? I fear I could not bear to tell the tale more than once.”_

_“Of course, sannadad.” Fíli was both impatient to hear and wished to put it off for as long as possible. He could not imagine having to share such even once._

_Kíli choked at the endearment. The brunet turned into the hand on his cheek as more tears fell. All at once Fíli could not bear to have his brother at arm’s length for one heartbeat longer. He tugged Kíli in for a crushing embrace which the other returned with equal fervour. He wasn’t sure how long they cried on to each other’s shoulders, but he felt calmer afterwards._

_“Amad?” Fíli called as he pushed open the door to their cottage. “Kíli has returned.” He hoped that the omission would prepare their mother somewhat for the shock she was about to receive._

_Dís came bustling from the kitchen prepared to welcome her youngest home, but stopped short when she saw them. Fíli saw the moment she realized, her hand fluttering to her mouth as she took in the dirty and trembling form of Kíli and Fíli’s own tearstained face. He also saw her strength in the way she straightened and actually managed to smile tenderly at her sons._

_“Kíli, I am so happy to see you home safe. You must be exhausted and hungry! Take your boots off, the pair of you, and go sit by the fire. I’ll have dinner out to you in a moment and you can tell...” here her voice wavered for the first time, “...you can tell us what happened.”_

_The brunet nodded mutely, stumbling when he tried to take off his heavy boots. Despite his own exhaustion and heavy sorrow, Fíli did his best to steady him and they leaned on each other to walk to the sitting room. Dís walked in with two bowls of stew to find her boys collapsed onto each other on the sofa, their hands grasped tightly between them._

_“It is good to see you together once more, dashat-ê [5].” Their mother smiled softly when she handed them their meal. “Kíli, please eat before you share your tale.”_

_Kíli’s gaze was distant as he ate mechanically. Fíli doubted his brother even tasted his stew. Somehow the blond found himself closer and closer to tears once more as he watched Kíli’s spoon scrape the bottom of the bowl for the last of it. Finally, Kíli set it aside with a quiet ‘clink’._

_On a more ordinary night, Dís would scold them for not taking their dishes to be cleaned, but on that night she simply leaned forward and waited for her returned son to speak of her absent husband._

_Kíli opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. Fíli squeezed his hand in silent support, and that seemed to be enough to allow him to begin. “The first week and a half of the patrol proceeded as normal. It was just as we were preparing to turn towards home that we came across the tracks of a large pack of orcs. Thorin wished to track them; they were far too close to the settlement for comfort. When Uncle realized it would take longer than we had intended to be absent, he sent a message home. And he was right to do so; it took us a week to follow them back to their lair.”_

_Kíli’s words fell into the hollow that had opened in him when he realized their father was dead. Balin and Dís had been correct, close to two weeks out, they would have been much too far for him to catch up leading a second patrol. At the same time, his heart was screaming that he might have been able to save his father had he disregarded them and gone anyways._

_“The orc pack was a fairly large one, we could tell from the sheer number of tracks,” Kíli continued. “That was in part why it took so long to track them; we did not wish to miss a smaller group turning aside through inattention. Despite their numbers, Irak-adad [6] and Dwalin were confident in our party. This confidence was reinforced when we reached the cave they had chosen to hole up. Myself and Indra were sent to scout for any other exits. We found none, and the only entrance was narrow enough to create a bottleneck. It was all going well.”_

_The archer paused to draw in a deep breath as he came to the most difficult part of his tale to tell. “I do not know if they were part of the pack we had trailed and we had missed their departure despite our caution, or another altogether; but more orcs came upon us from behind. Much of our patrol turned to deal with the new threat. Only a few were needed to handle the remnants of those in the cave in any case. Again, we were doing well. The orcs were disorganized and most lacked any true martial skills. But Adad...”_

_“Hjalli always was more of a merchant than a warrior,” their mother agreed sorrowfully, understanding what would come next. “I have feared his lack of ability would betray him for years, travelling far and wide as he did on his trips.”_

_Kíli did not seem to realize he was nodding in agreement. “As the orcs were cut down, they became more desperate. A wild charge by a few of the better armed separated Adad from the rest of the group. I managed to shoot one of those pressing him, but neither he nor I were swift enough to stop the blow which struck under his guard.”_

_His fragile facade of composure cracked once and for all when he confessed what he saw as his failure. “I reached his s-side just in time t-to say go-goodbye,” he stammered, tears streaming once more down his face. “I-I’m so-sorry, Amad. I c-c-could not save him.”_

_Instantly Dís was on her feet, striding across the room to gather Kíli into her arms. “Oh, my brave kandith [7]. I know you did everything you could.”_

_“No, no, I should have been faster! I-I should have known which orc was the greater threat,” Kíli protested wildly even as he clutched tightly at their mother._

_“Shh, my wildling,” Dís soothed him, stroking his hair. “It is the orc who is responsible, not you. You could not have predicted what might happen. I know Hjalli...” and here Fíli could hear her own grief even as she did her best to ease Kíli through his guilt, “...your father would not wish for you to blame yourself. He was so proud of you, little archer. So proud of you both.”_

_Fíli choked on his tears when their mother lifted one arm to invite him into her embrace. He crashed into the pair of them with a sob, his mother wrapping an arm around his shoulders even as Kíli’s wound around his waist._

_“ Zunug nadan-ê [8]. You are the greatest gift your father ever gave me, the pair of you and his love. I can see his best qualities in you, kandith [9], razdith [10]. Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu [11].” And finally she surrendered to her own tears._

_They remained in their tight circle until their tears began to abate, taking the moment to grieve in private when tomorrow they would have to present a strong face for the people of their settlement. And that night, Fíli and Kíli slept tangled together as they had as dwarflings, clinging to their closeness in the face of their loss._

__________

That night was the last time he had seen Kíli shed more than a few tears. Even when they had laid Hjalli to rest in the stone, Kíli had done his best to remain stoic. Fury roared through Fíli that Thorin had so injured his brother as to leave him sobbing on the floor, but it swiftly dwindled like fire denied fuel. They had spent so many hours searching the library for answers because their uncle was _sick_ and still they were helpless to aid him.

With that in mind, Fíli set aside his helm to kneel beside his brother and wrap an arm over his shoulders, the embrace less satisfying through the weight of their armour. Kíli started at the touch, truly not having registered that the blond had followed him.

“I am sorry Uncle was so cruel, but I know he doesn’t truly believe his words. He is not himself.”

There was a lengthy pause where the only sounds were Kíli’s repressed sobs and the rattle of his armour from his heaving breaths. When he did speak, his voice was surprisingly even. “That is what I am trying to convince myself of, but a nagging doubt still lingers. Would those words have been spoken so readily if he had not already harboured such thoughts? He wouldn’t be the only dwarf to consider me unbefitting of the line of Durin.” Kíli heaved a heavy sigh before continuing. “I did not help that impression I’m sure, with my undignified departure and tears just from a few harsh words. Perhaps he was correct to reprimand me.”

“No!” Fíli could no longer listen to Kíli doubt himself. “I would have done the same had Thorin been so harsh with me. He has a way of wielding words that can be absolutely devastating. I am _absolutely certain_ that he doesn’t think that of you when he is himself. When we were just beginning to choose our paths, we were supposed to be in bed but I slipped downstairs and overheard Amad and Thorin speaking after one of the traditionalists had gone after you.”

Kíli seemed about to interrupt but Fíli hushed him. “Amad was concerned about the opposition you would face, but Thorin told her you had his unfailing support in your choice to learn woodcraft and hunting. He said he was proud of you for ignoring our traditions to learn those skills because you saw a need; that you truly understood what it meant to serve your people, even so young. Don’t forget that just because Thorin has lost sight of it.” He brushed a kiss across Kíli’s temple and whispered, “you have always made me proud to be your brother,” into his ear. His soft words drew one final tear from Kíli’s eye, but this time it was not from sorrow and self-doubt.

“Thank you, Fí. Without your support, I don’t know that I would have been able to endure the scorn to stay on my chosen path. I love you so much.” Their armour clattered loudly when Kíli tugged him into a fierce embrace.

“I could do nothing less than return the same faith you had in me, amrâl [12]. Your confidence in me was sometimes all that kept me going on the long days where everyone else had nothing but demands or lessons for me as heir.”

The archer snuffed a laugh. “We have that in common then, Fí.”

Fíli chuckled weakly in response, wishing he could feel Kíli’s warmth but foiled by their steel garments. With Kíli’s tears halted, Fíli’s fears for his brother’s health returned full force. His limp had been near as severe as it had been in Laketown, which combined with the swordsman’s flashback to their father’s death gave him a powerful urge to check Kíli over to reassure himself. The floor was quickly becoming uncomfortable as well, tangled up as they were in heavy armour. It wasn’t until they pushed off to stand that Fíli’s need crystallized as Kíli’s leg gave out slightly.

He was quick to grab the brunet and help him to his feet; but instead of moving away, he found his hands going to the buckles of Kíli’s gorget, his vambraces, his splint mail.

“Fí? Nadadel, what are you doing?” Kíli asked, puzzled but not raising an objection.

“I-I need to be sure you’re well, Kí. Only a week and a half ago you were dying in my arms, and I am still unable to shake that fear I might lose you.”

Kíli nodded thoughtfully and allowed Fíli the freedom to remove his armour and clothing piece by piece, seeming to sense that the blond had to do it himself. It wasn’t until he was stripped down to his smalls that he did more than shift to make Fíli’s self-appointed task easier.

With a gentle smile, he grasped Fíli’s wrists and guided his hands from his waistband to the thick bandage which still shrouded his right thigh. “This is what you truly need to see, isn’t it?”

Fíli was grateful that Kíli understood his need exactly. It was strange to be kneeling and looking up at his unclothed brother while still wearing full armour, but despite his seemingly vulnerable position, Kíli was completely confident. Fíli felt like a knight of men kneeling before his liege lord.

Apprehension coiled more tightly in Fíli’s gut as his fingers carefully unwound the bandage, calluses catching on the gauzy weave. Despite his brother’s assurances of health, he was still partially expecting to unwrap Kíli’s leg to discover sick black streaks radiating out from the wound once more. With the way things had been going wrong since they had reached these halls, a resurgence of his illness would be painful but not surprising.

Thankfully when the last coils fell away, all that greeted him was a slight reddening of the area. Relieved, he planted a kiss directly over where the arrow had struck. He pushed up on to his knees to circle his arms around Kíli’s waist and listen to his even heartbeat.

Slender fingers tangled into his thick hair and turned his face to meet Kíli’s tender expression. “I’m alright, Fí. I’m healing.”

Unconsciously, Fíli found his hands mapping every inch of Kíli’s skin, smooth, furred, and scarred alike.

Kíli shivered at the cool brush of steel on his bare skin. His hands darted out in a mirror of Fíli’s earlier actions to unbuckle his gorget, and he let it drop to the stone floor with a reverberating clang. His pauldrons and chest and back plates were quick to follow. The loud noises were easily disregarded in their focus on each other.

With the easier pieces removed, Kíli grabbed an arm to remove the vambrace. Once it was cast aside, Fíli was quick to offer up the other. He was forced to stop touching the brunet entirely to have his chain shirt removed, his head emerging tousled and his clip knocked askew. His attention occupied with setting it right, he was startled when Kíli dropped to his knees and pulled him into a deep kiss. His hands immediately moved to push Fíli’s layers off his shoulders and raised goosebumps when he rucked up his undershirt to run short fingernails up his spine. Fíli moaned quietly into Kíli’s mouth from the unexpected pleasure. He could feel Kíli’s answering smile against his lips.

One of the brunet’s hands remained under his shirt while the other clumsily tugged his sash undone. In an effort to aid him, Fíli leaned back to unfasten his greaves, tugging Kíli to follow with a hand firm on the back of his neck. Greaves discarded, he quickly kicked off his boots before straightening once more. Steel cast aside, Fíli was able to feel a very different hardness pressed against his hip. His own length swelled further in response.

He groaned when Kíli’s fingers went to his flies and brushed against his already straining cock. It was a relief when both trousers and smalls were opened and tugged down around his thighs. Callused fingers closed around him and stroked once, twice, and then Kíli’s warmth was gone entirely.

Fíli cried out, a wordless complaint, opening his eyes to find where Kíli had gone. It was unfair to have simply left like that.

His ire was dampened when he saw Kíli spreading out their discarded layers of shirts to form a sort of bed on the floor. Finished, he turned to Fíli and toppled him onto it with a push and a grin. The blond was shocked to find himself giggling after the somber mood he had been in all day.

But Kíli had always been able to do that for him. The younger of the pair had always been quick to cheer the heir after hard days, no matter how he might feel himself. Before just recently, he would not have been able to imagine this particular scenario however; Kíli grinning down at him as he removed the last of Fíli’s clothing.

“You’re always too serious, razdûn-nadad [13],” Kíli echoed his thoughts. “It’s on the hard days that you most need to smile.” He flopped forward onto his brother’s prone body and poked Fíli in the sides, startling a squeak from him that turned into another giggle.

Before Fíli could speak, Kíli captured his lips and his attention both, one hand scraping nails gently over his ribs and the other tweaking a nipple. His nails gave Fíli a pleasurable not-quite-ticklish shiver that travelled all the way to his toes. He wasn’t sure if his own attempt on the back of Kíli’s neck was intended as exploration or retaliation, but either way, it provoked a delicious groan that made his cock jump.

The sexual side to their relationship was still so new and exciting that Fíli was determined to spend as long as he could discovering Kíli’s reactions. His hands roved over every inch of Kíli’s exposed skin, this time with a more pleasant purpose than reassuring himself of his wellness. Fíli was particularly delighted to find that some of Kíli’s scars were actually _more_ sensitive. When he writhed on top of Fíli from teasing touches across those areas, it sparked wonderful friction for them both.

It was Kíli who moved them forward first, his past experiences serving as a general map as to what might feel good as opposed to Fíli’s trial and error method. He kissed a trail down Fíli’s torso until his face was level with his groin. The blond looked down his body to see Kíli smiling up at him with a distinctly predatory glint. Indeed, his crouched stance was much like a wolf about to pounce, though no wolf had such a nicely muscled bottom.

Fíli chuckled at his own imaginings, breaking on a moan when Kíli huffed at him and sucked another possessive bruise into the bone of his hip. He seemed to enjoy leaving his mark on his brother. Taking his cue from Fíli’s moan, Kíli kissed and nibbled along both hip bones, Fíli squirming under his touches. Every scrape of teeth sent fire straight to the blond’s cock, and he was achingly hard by the time Kíli swallowed him down.

Once more, Kíli’s lips and throat and tongue worked him to his peak more quickly than he would have wished. Fíli consoled himself that each time he was able to last a little longer. The wet heat of Kíli’s mouth was just so _different_ than pleasuring himself.

When Fíli regained his composure after spilling down Kíli’s throat with a loud cry, Kíli was lying atop him with a contented smile on his face. The slightly smug edge to it had Fíli determined to have him come as thoroughly undone.

Years of wrestling with his brother made it second nature to distract him so he could flip their positions, though he had never before done so with a kiss. Dazed, Kíli blinked up at him before a slow smile spread across his face.

“Your turn?”

“My turn,” Fíli affirmed, laughing. He crawled backwards down Kíli’s body, displeased to find his smalls still in place. It didn’t take long for him to have them off and discarded, but then he was faced with Kíli’s thick shaft closer than he had ever seen it and suddenly felt concerned whether it would fit in his mouth. Still, he was fairly certain his own had more girth and Kíli had managed.

Experimentally, Fíli licked up Kíli’s member and was rewarded with a groan, the archer’s fingers winding into his tawny hair. Encouraged, he planted a kiss over the crown and opened his mouth to take in just the tip. Under his hands, Kíli’s muscles strained with the effort it took for him to hold himself back from just bucking straight into Fíli’s mouth.

With Kíli’s restraint, so far, it was easier than he had feared. Fíli planted another open-mouthed kiss over the tip. He remembered liking it when Kíli swirled his tongue into the slit and tried that himself. The salty-bitter taste of the slick was unpleasant, but completely worth it to have Kíli groaning and trembling in pleasure because of _him_.

“Fuck, Fí, please. Please keep going, you feel so good.”

Feeling confident Fíli swallowed down around Kíli’s length and promptly managed to choke himself. Coughing, he pulled away.

“Don’t push yourself, it feels so good when you just suck on the head,” Kíli moaned in pleasure from the sudden constriction even as he told Fíli how to avoid it. “Wrap a hand around the base and you can control how deep it goes more easily.”

With Kíli’s advice, he soon found a workable rhythm, Kíli tense and trembling under him. Fíli was beginning to truly enjoy this new way to give pleasure when Kíli tugged on his hair in warning.

“Fí, I’m coming,” Kíli choked out only just in time. Fíli barely managed to swallow all of his seed, a few thick globs spilling from his overfilled mouth. Habitually neat, he thumbed them away and licked the digit clean. Kíli opened his eyes once more just in time to catch him at it, groaning as his prick twitched weakly in the grasp of Fíli’s other hand.

“Fuck, Fí, that was so sexy,” Kíli pulled him up to kiss him breathless. “You didn’t have to swallow; I know it’s not the most pleasant taste.”

Fíli snorted. “It was you who sucked me off in the interests of being tidy. Would you have me spit it out in a corner?”

The brunet stared blankly for a moment before laughing. “I suppose not.”

Relaxed and sated, the pair curled together into their nest of shirts. Drifting in his haze of pleasure, a question occurred to the blond.

“I know I peak quickly because of my inexperience with these pleasures, but why did you find release so swift?”

Fíli could feel Kíli’s embarrassed flush in the skin under his cheek. “....I have not sought out another to...share pleasure since I realized my heart belonged to you, atamanel. With the lack of privacy on this journey, I had not found completion since we left Beorn’s until the time we shared in the bath. I have scarce more experience in these past years than you have, Fí.” Despite his halting explanation and embarrassment, Kíli answered honestly.

It was Fíli’s turn to blush when Kíli once again affirmed his commitment. “I had not realized,” was all he could think of to say.

He would have been quite happy to remain tangled with his brother, but the complaints of his stomach reminded them both they had not eaten since breakfast. Reluctantly and interspersed with kisses, the pair dressed and returned to the cookfire, both hoping Thorin would have absented himself once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Thorin's Halls
> 
> [2] Father
> 
> [3] Father
> 
> [4] Mother
> 
> [5] my sons
> 
> [6] Uncle
> 
> [7] young wolf
> 
> [8] My courageous boys
> 
> [9] young wolf
> 
> [10] young sun
> 
> [11] May Mahal bless you.
> 
> [12] love
> 
> [13] sun-brother


	12. Risks and Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The disposition of the Arkenstone. And Kili makes a risky choice.

It was not until they reached the Treasury that they realized how long they had been away. Much of the Company were already in their bedrolls; Bombur and Nori the last around the fire. Nori was sharpening and oiling the plethora of knives he had chosen from the armoury. Fíli smiled to see it, for it was Nori who had taught him how to conceal blades safely in his clothing. Even if the skill had not been useful in a fight, it would have been worth learning simply for the look on the guard’s face in Mirkwood.

Nori looked up from his work and smiled when he heard their approaching footsteps, but for once it lacked the harder edge life as a thief had given him. “Avoiding our glorious leader?”

Fíli nodded, walking closer to the fire while Kíli hesitated behind him.

“I’m not surprised.” Nori looked past the blond to address Kíli directly. “Thorin had no business saying what he did to you, lad. I’ve seen few dwarves who could keep up as you did with an injury like that. It would have been worse for us all had you not risked that arrow. The orcs would have had us trapped, or we would have wound up right back in Thranduil’s lovely guest rooms. No, you’re worth much more than the opinions of those stuffy traditionalists who didn’t even have the stones to join this quest.”

Such a speech was rather unexpected from Nori. Fíli had rarely heard him encourage another in a like manner, and he hadn’t known his sometime-teacher had an opinion of Kíli one way or the other. Thinking on it however; if anyone knew about choosing an unconventional craft for the sake of family, it would be Nori. And Kíli had always been generous with the fruits of his trips to the forests around the Ered Luin.

Kíli had joined them around the fire while Nori had been speaking. His expression was stunned but shyly pleased by everything the thief had said.

“He’s right, you know,” Bombur put in quietly.

“So Fíli has been telling me,” Kíli tried a weak laugh. “I am accustomed to such opinions by now, and have done my best to disregard them. I would not have imagined that hearing Thorin echo them would be so painful. It is reassuring to hear that at least some of you do not hold to the same.”

Grateful for their support of his brother, Fíli still chose to redirect the conversation before Kíli could dwell on past slights. “Why are the pair of you still awake?”

“You know me, lad, I have a habit of being up at odd hours. Comes with the territory,” Nori said. “Bombur here was supposed to be on watch. Thorin doesn’t want to leave the wall entirely unguarded.”

The brothers looked at Bombur quizzically; curious as to why the shy cook wouldn’t be doing as Thorin had asked.

Bombur ducked his head while he replied. “Bilbo came out on the wall to get some air, saw me yawning and offered to take the rest of my watch. I just wanted a snack before bed.” He turned away to reach for something sitting on his other side. “I saved dinner for the two of you.”

“Thank you, Bombur,” Kíli said brightly, reaching for his bowl. “I had feared we would miss your cooking tonight.”

“It was very thoughtful of you to set some aside for us, thank you.”

A pleased flush spread across Bombur’s ruddy cheeks. “It was nothing.”

The conversation around the small fire as they ate was enjoyable, for once not focussed on the treasure. Bombur vanished to bed quickly after his meal, but Nori took a few moments to show Kíli how to more securely tuck away the extra daggers he had chosen.

Yawning themselves, Fíli and Kíli bid him good night and slipped away to bed not long after.

* * *

Kíli groaned when Thorin’s bellow awakened them the next morning. “C’n we jus’ ignore him, Fí?”

“Wish we could, Kí.” He reluctantly untangled himself from Kíli’s long limbs, made more difficult by his brother’s refusal to leave their comfortable nest.

Thorin bellowed again as Kíli was twisting to bury his face in Fíli’s thigh. “What does he want this time?”

“Probably for us to go stand on the wall all day once more. Better get up soon, Kí, or we’ll have to do it without breakfast.”

Kíli grumbled, but conceded that Fíli was probably correct. They pulled on their outer layers and boots quickly, leaving the armour for after.

It was a surprise when they reached the others and Thorin looked even stormier. A moment later Bilbo came running in and Fíli blinked when he realized that the hobbit had never joined them in their alcove the previous night. He was distracted from the thought when Thorin began to speak, Bilbo having been the last member of the Company to arrive.

“I was standing out on the wall this morning when a messenger rode up. Apparently Thranduil and Bard have more they wish to say. Eat quickly and arm yourselves before you join me, I will not stand for further insult.” The King stormed off quickly up the main ramp, Dwalin and Balin exchanging unreadable glances before following in his wake.

Breakfast for the rest of them was a tense and hurried affair, all of them silently wondering what had brought the men and elves back so quickly. Fíli could only hope they had not elected to ask for more. It would only increase Thorin’s obstinacy and the likelihood of war.

It was a rush to arm and get to the wall once they finished, but they arrived to discover that nothing much had occurred. Indeed, the part of the message that Thorin had failed to mention was that midday was specified for the meeting. And if Thorin had spoken with Dwalin and Balin before the rest arrived, they chose to keep their own council.

The wait dragged on unpleasantly, pounds of steel carrying a chill even through layers of woolens. Fíli would much prefer to be off snuggled up with his brother, but Thorin seemed to have forgotten the previous day’s insult and disagreement with them both. He had decided to use the whole situation as an educational moment, neatly contradicting almost all of what he had previously taught Fíli since he had been named heir. The only interruption came when grumbling from Glóin and Bofur about the cold and the wait became loud enough to warrant the King glaring them into silence.

As a result, it was almost a relief when Kíli cried out that Thranduil and Bard approached. Thorin cut off in the middle of his diatribe about how the dwarves had been the power in these lands until Smaug came to glower at the still distant figures. In the expectant stillness which fell over them all, Bilbo’s nervous fidgeting caught Fíli’s eye. Unfortunately, it was not an opportune moment to pull him aside for reassurance, though Fíli certainly would have had the time. The approaching pair kept their mounts to a leisurely stroll, the smirk on Thranduil’s face causing Fíli to clench his jaw in frustration.

How he wished he could simply shout at the three of them: acting more like children squabbling over toys than lords and kings. Only in this case their antagonism could end in far worse than a simple skinned knee or bloodied nose. Thranduil at least was deliberately seeking to provoke Thorin, and Bard made no move to halt him.

“Hail, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bard called when they at last halted before the mountain.

“I would rather not waste my breath on pleasantries,” Thorin shouted back. “Why have you returned? You offered two days for consideration, the one night which has passed has _certainly_ not changed my mind about your unreasonable demands.”

“Is there nothing which would sway you into giving aid; that we might part as friends?”

“You have nothing I want, Lake-man. I certainly do not wish friendship with those who seek to rob me.”

Bard appeared saddened by Thorin’s rebuff, but there was a gleam to his eyes which Fíli did not like. Thranduil’s smugness only added to his apprehension. The Elvenking sat aloof on his mighty elk and allowed Bard to take the lead for some unfathomable reason, but his smile spoke to his enjoyment of the whole farce. Managing to catch Kíli’s eye, he could see his brother’s wordless agreement.

“Not even this?”

Fíli gaped in disbelieving horror when the man reached into his overcoat and produced a glowing gem. He had only Bilbo’s description to judge by, but it could only be the Arkenstone. But how had it come to be in Bard’s hands? It must have been within the mountain for – Bilbo – to have... As all the pieces fell into place, he looked at their hobbit and saw that all his suspicions were correct from the way Bilbo would not meet anyone’s gaze. Whatever their burglar had intended, Fíli could not think this would end well.

Thorin’s stunned silence ended with a roar of fury which would have matched Smaug’s. “You are the thieves I named you, indeed! How came you by the Arkenstone?” Almost absently, Fíli saw his uncle’s hands shaking. It was as though he was observing these events from a great distance. His mind had created a barrier as his thoughts turned over, frantically trying to consider what would happen now.

“Must I now buy back the symbol of my rule with the inheritance of my people?”

“We are no thieves! All I ask is that you honour your bargain. Once I have one-twelfth of the treasure in my possession, I will return to you the Arkenstone.”

“You claim not to be a thief, but why should I believe a word you say? You hold in your hand my people’s greatest treasure; with no way it could come to you save by theft.”

“I have not stolen from you, Thorin-King!”

“Then how came you by that treasure?”

“I gave it to him!” Bilbo burst out. All eyes turned to the small but defiant form of their burglar. “...I gave it to him. I swore to help you return to your home, and I meant it. I would not see this end in war. It can stand against my portion of the treasure.”

“You? ...you!” Fíli saw the moment when betrayal turned to hurt turn to rage in Thorin’s eyes. “A burglar you are indeed, Master Baggins, and for that I shall give you all the _reward_ you deserve.”

The numb distance which had enveloped Fíli shattered in an instant when Thorin strode towards Bilbo intent on violence. Kíli at his side, he surged forward only just in time as the King grabbed Bilbo by his lapels and went to dangle him over the battlements. The brothers managed to keep Bilbo on the wall, but his fury had granted Thorin strength. They were unable to pry him off entirely.

“Uncle, no!”

“Bilbo!” a chorus of voices joined them in crying out.

A hooded figure no one had seen approach stepped forward. “If you do not like my burglar, Thorin Oakenshield, I would still ask that you not damage him. I am quite fond of him after all.”

“Gandalf,” Thorin sneered down at the now revealed wizard. “Very well, he is yours. But if I see him again, do not expect me to stay my hand.”

It took some effort for him to unclench his fists enough to release Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli stepping to interpose themselves between as Bilbo scurried away, a living barrier. The swordsman still worried about the rest of the Company’s reactions to their hobbit. Thorin was not the only one enraged by Bilbo’s actions, that much was clear; but he hoped the others would not turn to violence.

Thorin looked past the brothers to speak to the hobbit one last time.

“Go to your true friends then, descendent of rats, and no friendship of mine goes with you. I am reminded once more that it is foolish to place my trust in any save my closest kin.”

Fíli remained facing Thorin in case he changed his mind about permitting Bilbo to depart, but behind he could hear Bofur helping the hobbit over the wall. The friendly miner had always been closer to the hobbit than most, and the heir found himself shamefully hoping this would be enough to break the sway the gold held over him. It certainly seemed to have jarred some of the others; Ori and Óin stood blinking as though awoken from a dream.

When Bilbo arrived at Gandalf’s side, Thorin finally ceased glaring at his retreating figure. With a heavy sigh, he turned his attentions to Bard. “It seems that once more I have no choice, Bargeman. I must spend gold to buy back what never should have been given to you. However, it will take some time to transport so much.”

Immediately, Fíli knew what Thorin was planning. He wished to stall until Dáin’s arrival. Bard, with no such knowledge, nodded. He was obviously prepared to be magnanimous as he had gotten his way.

“Of course. Will one week be sufficient? I fear we cannot wait longer, with winter encroaching.”

“One week will indeed be long enough. Until then,” Thorin nodded in dismissal.

Bard and Thranduil seemed equally disinclined to linger with a bargain struck. The sight of Bilbo’s small figure casting one last look up at the dwarves before turning to follow Gandalf away made Fíli’s heart ache. Bilbo did not deserve this end for the friendship he had offered. With Kíli between him and Thorin, the heir dared to raise his hand in farewell, hoping it would not be final.

* * *

Clustered around the fire that night, the mood was very different from the jubilation when they had first arrived, or the seething anger which had settled on them with the news Roäc carried. Thorin was off brooding, with Balin and Dwalin as his oldest companions, but the rest of the Company had been shaken in their faith by what had transpired on the wall. Fíli had overheard whispers of concern over Bilbo’s fate echoing from the walls on their somber return to the Treasury. Inwardly, he cheered to see many of the others casting distrustful glances at the gold.

As a result of this new perspective, dinner was a morose affair. None wanted to be the first to speak of what they were all thinking.

Much as Fíli wished to air his own concerns and gain their support, he felt it was not yet time. Let them have the night to consider everything which had occurred. They could draw their own conclusions without his interference. The following day would be soon enough to speak of potential solutions.

After a quiet dinner, it was easy enough for he and Kíli to excuse themselves. The remainder of the Company seemed most reluctant to meet their eyes.

Rather than head back to their usual alcove, Kíli grabbed his hand and directed their steps up the grand ramp. Fíli was content enough to follow his lead to a small room near the library. He was drawn into a deep kiss once the door closed behind them, but the swordsman suspected that was not the reason Kíli had led him so far.

Indeed, once Kíli broke the kiss, he paced around the confines of the room several times in silence. “We should have done more for Bilbo,” he said when he spoke at last. “We owe it to him to let him know that many of the Company do not agree with Thorin’s words and actions today.”

The heir agreed with his brother, but his heart would speak against the solution Kíli was likely to suggest.

“I know we should, but it will be difficult for a message to reach him in the midst of that camp.”

Kíli sighed, smiling ruefully as he saw past Fíli’s feigned ignorance. “That is why I must follow Bilbo’s path over the wall. I can slip into camp quietly and locate where he is staying.”

“Kí, if Thorin ever found out what you had done...” he could not even think of how Thorin would react to such defiance. “You know he would not think well of you acting outside of his orders as King.”

Kíli scowled. “I ceased to consider Thorin my King when he put gold and greed ahead of his people. _You_ are my King, Fíli, and I would swear my oath of loyalty immediately if I thought you would accept.”

The blond’s mouth gaped open like the entrance to a mine. His brother had always been bold, but to openly say such things... The buzz of warmth from Kíli’s faith in him was all but smothered by fear. “You must not say such things, it is _treason_ ,” he hissed. “If Thorin were to hear you...”

“No one is around, nadadel. After that display on the wall with Bilbo, I know the others will hesitate to pass tales on to Thorin in any case.” Kíli’s face softened as he pulled Fíli into an affectionate headbutt, staying close and continuing quietly. “You know that it must be me who goes. I am the spare...”

His finger came up to hush Fíli before he could interrupt, though he longed to tell his brother that he was not simply ‘the spare’ anything.

“You know it is true, Fí. I am the second son, the one who will never be King. Nor would I wish it, for I know the only path for the throne to fall to me. You will be a magnificent leader for our people, and I will take the risks which you cannot. I will go, and speak to Bilbo, and see if anything can be salvaged from this which will not lead to senseless war.” His mouth twisted sourly. “Perhaps Gandalf will be of some help. I could tell he was not entirely surprised by this turn of events, maybe he will have the answers which the library could not provide.”

The rush of pride and fear almost choked him, but Fíli could not deny that Kíli was correct. He capitulated with a sigh, turning his thoughts to how this venture could be used to the greatest benefit.

“If you’re going to risk it, we should use this opportunity to try to placate Thranduil at the least. If we restore the necklace to him, I would hope he would not be so quick to join in battle. Without his warriors, Bard would be forced to consider negotiation when Dáin arrives.”

Kíli nodded in agreement as Fíli spoke, though his face was still creased with some concern. “Hopefully Thranduil has not changed his mind about solely desiring the necklace. Being so close to the treasure has changed few for the better.”


	13. Over the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili makes his trip over the wall and into the enemy camp.

After a lengthy debate where, in the end, they had just gone over the same points again and again, Kíli was ready to be on his way. He stood at the edge of the ramparts, looking down at the path he would have to take. It would have been much simpler had Thorin’s paranoia not insisted on damming the River Running into a pool before the Gate.

“Are you certain you’re prepared?” Fíli asked once more. The archer understood his brother’s hesitance, had Fíli been the one going into danger without him he would be the same. Though he understood, Kíli could not help feeling itchy and impatient. It was difficult enough with his own concerns; he did not have the energy to continually allay Fíli’s as well.

Rather than a verbal response, he bent his head to kiss the swordsman again, revelling that he was allowed to at last. In truth, he had not believed he would _ever_ have the opportunity. That Fíli had welcomed his advances still sent joy sparking through him every time he thought, or touched, or spoke of his love. It was that feeling he did his best to draw on to banish his nerves.

“I’ll be fine, Fí, I have to come back to you.”

Fíli’s face softened. “You’d better.”

Kíli smiled at him, taking a final inventory of all he was carrying to ensure it was secure before he went over the wall. Along with his bow and some carefully concealed daggers, he had the necklace Thranduil desired and a large sack of gold. It was nowhere near how much Bard had asked, but they both hoped it would serve to purchase some good will. He was about to grab the rope and be on his way when Fíli seized him in a fierce embrace, squeezing the air from his lungs.

“You had best return safely; else I will go after Bard and Thranduil myself.”

He forced himself to chuckle as if it was a jest instead of a promise. It was a real effort to release Fíli, taking the opportunity to bury his face in his brother’s mane of sun-kissed hair before giving him a final jaunty salute as he swung himself over the edge. It was fortunate that he was not unfamiliar with climbing. Even with the rope, it was a treacherous descent in the dark; he didn’t know how Bilbo had managed.

Despite his assurances to Fíli, Kíli’s heart was in his throat as he cautiously picked his way around the pool. He knew that no matter his skill at stealth, he would never be able to sneak into an encampment full of elves. His best hope was that the guards would not shoot him on sight. And that he would be able to persuade Thranduil to release him after.

Fortune was with him that night however, for at the first picket he came across, Tauriel was standing sentry.

“Hallo the camp!” he called out, raising his hands to show he meant no harm when his hail caused Tauriel to spring to her feet with a nocked arrow. Her aim was unerring even before she registered her target, but he was relieved that a smile lit her features along with recognition.

“Kíli, I am pleased to see you well.” She lowered her bow, gesturing for him to approach and ordering the other guard to stand down. Kíli’s words had served to startle her out of her trance, or however it was that elves slept.

The other guard seemed quite jumpy at first, but her tension eased when Kíli stepped fully into the firelight. A lone dwarrow who was clearly not seeking to cause trouble was evidently not what she had expected.

Just the same... “Kíli, son of Dís,” he bowed, but did not offer his service. “I apologize for startling you.”

“My thanks. I am Linwë.”

“What are you doing here, Kíli? My Lord Thranduil has commanded that any who leave Erebor be brought before him, and I cannot afford to disobey him again.”

He sighed in relief that Thranduil had not ordered death under such circumstances, at least not immediately. “I am sorry if your aid of us has led you into difficulty with your lord,” Kíli apologized, though he could not truly regret her actions. Not when she had saved his life as a result. “As it happens, I must speak with Lord Thranduil; with Bard, Gandalf and Bilbo as well. Prince Fíli wishes to see if there is some way we may arrive at a compromise.”

It felt strange using such courtly titles, especially for his brother, but if they were to take him seriously he must sound the part. Fíli had debated with him about declaring his heritage; it was a risk to be open about his relation to Thorin. In the end however, there was no other way for him to negotiate.

Tauriel looked startled at his formality after their previous casual interactions, but pleased; he hoped because they wished to avert war. Linwë simply looked shocked. Kíli could not even attempt surprise at her reaction, it was likely that the elves had just as little regard for dwarves as his people had for elves.

“Very well then, your Highness, I shall serve as your escort into camp,” the redheaded captain said formally, though she flashed him a quick grin.

“Tauriel, should we really allow an armed dwarf to walk freely into camp?” objected Linwë.

The dwarrow in question quickly spoke before Tauriel could reply. The scowl on her face seemed to indicate that her words would be sharp, and Kíli hoped to provoke as little conflict with his mission as possible. “I give you my word that I mean no harm to anyone in your camp. But...” he sighed internally at what he was about to say, already mourning the loss, “if you truly feel it necessary, I will surrender my bow to you as a sign of good faith. I only ask that you allow me to retrieve it before I return to the mountain.”

“You need not surrender your weapon,” Tauriel protested, turning to her fellow guard. “I have spoken to Prince Kíli on several occasions. We can trust him to stand by his word.”

Linwë’s mouth twisted. “I would imagine the men of Laketown thought the same of Thorin Oakenshield, and have now cause to regret it.”

In better times, Kíli would have bristled at the insult to his uncle, but could not deny the truth of it. He had thought the same since arriving at the mountain. And despite her acerbic words, Linwë’s eyes were kind.

“In any case, Prince Kíli is far more like to have his bow returned should he leave it with me. You know Lord Thranduil will demand he be disarmed, and our lord is not inclined to trust your judgement after your defiance.”

It was difficult for Kíli to once again part with his favoured weapon, especially after losing his first to these same elves. But he shrugged off both bow and quiver to pass into Linwë’s care. “I thank you for your consideration, Linwë. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure was mine, your Highness. You were not what I was expecting from the dwarves of Thorin’s Company. I shall look after your weapon as if it were my own.”

He did his best to take her words as the compliment intended, but it was difficult to quell his instinctive flinch from memories of hearing _‘not what’s expected of a dwarf’_ in far crueler tones repeated over the years. Thorin’s recent words had brought all those worn insecurities roaring back full force. He only managed to keep his composure because Fíli was counting on him: he would not fail his most constant support.

The keen eyes of the elves noted his reaction, but Kíli was grateful that neither chose to comment. Rather, Tauriel turned to lead the way to camp, beckoning him to follow. When they were far enough to have a reasonable expectation that Linwë would not overhear, Tauriel broke the silence which had fallen.

“How is your leg, Prince Kíli?” And it was awkward, the formality, after the spiders and tales shared through prison bars and her efforts in healing him; but he could not tell her to call him ‘Kíli’, not then. He _needed_ the formality, to be a Prince of Durin’s line and not just himself.

“It is much improved. The wound has sealed shut and is at most a little tender, unless I strain myself. I must thank you once more, Captain, you saved my life,” he said earnestly.

Her reaction, flushing and ducking her head, puzzled him. He hadn’t thought she was the sort to become embarrassed over gratitude. Unfortunately for her, with their respective size, that made the shame that crossed her face all the more visible to him. “I am no longer a Captain, your Highness. My actions in leaving the Greenwood to pursue the orcs when he had ordered the borders closed displeased my lord.”

Going unsaid was that Thranduil would have been less than pleased by her healing one of Thorin’s nephews. A heavy sorrow rolled over him that their peoples could be so estranged that a compassionate act was cause for censure.

“I am sorry for that.” Kíli’s natural humour reasserted itself as he considered the situation, quirking the corner of his mouth. “I would speak for you, but in the present situation I cannot think that it would _improve_ your standing.”

He was pleased to hear her answering chuckle.

They fell silent once more as they drew nearer to the main camp. Kíli found himself rolling his shoulders back to present a more confident front, nerves strung as taut as his fiddle by the knowledge he was walking into a camp full of those who saw him as an enemy. As reassuring as it was that his knives had not been confiscated, they would be of little real help. His only hope of leaving once more was to convince them he was an ally.

It was a comfort when Tauriel closed the distance between them, grasping his bicep as though she were more captor than escort. Despite her recent demotion, respect for her was still high enough to pass them through camp unchallenged until they were close to the large tent which Kíli imagined belonged to Thranduil. Indeed, it was not until a blond elf who looked distantly familiar stepped into their path that they were even questioned.

“What do you think you’re doing, Tauriel?” he hissed. “Father will not be pleased to see you with this _dwarf_ again.”

Hearing him speak made his identity click for Kíli. This was Prince Legolas, who had followed her to Laketown. The glint of jealousy in his eyes had Kíli smothering a laugh, certain it was not _Thranduil_ who would be displeased to see Tauriel with him in particular. He wished there was a way to reassure the blond there was nothing beyond a hesitant friendship between he and Tauriel.

Since there was not, he stepped forward to bow, drawing Legolas’ ire to himself instead. “I am pleased to see you once more under what I hope to be better circumstances, Prince Legolas. I am Kíli, son of Dís, here to speak to your leaders on behalf of Crown Prince Fíli.”

Legolas looked down on him with disdain, Kíli meeting his eyes steadily and doing his best not to project his own distaste. “Pretty manners, for a dwarf.” His gaze turned appraising, prompting Kíli to turn his open palms outwards in the universal sign that his intentions were peaceful. Finally, Legolas sighed. “Very well, dwarf. Bard is already speaking with my father. I am certain Mithrandir [1] will join them when he learns of your arrival.”

__________

Both Bard and Thranduil fixed their attention on Kíli as soon as he stepped into the tent, sending his heart into his throat. He was not the heir; he had not anticipated having sole responsibility for such fraught negotiations for years yet. At least Bard’s expression held some warmth, the bowman retaining a little fondness from their actions again Smaug. Thranduil’s haughty stare was harder to meet, nothing like the other elf lord Kíli had encountered. Lord Elrond held a distant warmth, and though he did not entirely approve of their quest, he had been generous with his hospitality.

“Kíli! This is a surprise,” Bard was the first to speak. “Why have you come?”

This was always going to be the most difficult part. It felt disloyal to go behind Thorin’s back as he was, but something had to be done. Kíli was granted a brief reprieve when Gandalf and Bilbo entered from the opposite side.

Their burglar’s open face lit up when he caught sight of the archer. “Kíli! When Gandalf told me you were here, I wasn’t certain I should believe him. Are you alright?”

Kíli could not hold back a chuckle at his concern. “I should be asking that of _you_.” He sobered. “Fíli and I regretted that we could not prevent Thorin’s actions, and wish to apologize. Your aid deserved better that that from us.”

“Thank you, my lad, but it was not your fault. I knew what I risked with my choice. I’m sorry for giving away your people’s treasure...”

But Kíli was already shaking his head in denial of his apology. “We understand why you did it. The Arkenstone was the one thing which Thorin might have been willing to negotiate for. Though the rest of the Company may not see that yet, they regret that we parted ways in such a manner. Everyone has been worried for you.”

It was not until he stopped speaking that he noticed the varying expressions of shock painted across the faces of those surrounding him. Evidently, however they had expected him to respond, that had not been among the possibilities. Even Thranduil was giving him an evaluating look.

“Well then, Prince Kíli, perhaps it is time we hear why you have come,” the Elvenking suggested.

“Of course,” he responded calmly. “My brother, the Crown Prince, sent me on his behalf.” Kíli was hoping that keeping them off-balance would make them consider his offer seriously. “His Majesty may have agreed to your terms for the return of the Arkenstone, but he has no intention of honouring the bargain. Dáin will be here with his warriors from the Iron Hills within the week, and as Thorin is, he will not hesitate to retrieve the gem with force.”

Predictably, Bard and Legolas were vocal with their disapproval, but both Thranduil and Gandalf watched Kíli steadily. He waited for the other two to lose steam before he continued. “Prince Fíli does not wish to see war between our peoples. He has an offer with which to avert battle, and he hopes that with more time we may be able to restore King Thorin to himself.

“It is as if Smaug left a lingering influence over the treasure, and it has most of our Company in its thrall.” Kíli paused to cast a hard look over those around him. “I do not believe they are the only ones, though perhaps the effect is blunted by the walls of Erebor.”

Once again, Bard and Legolas were the first to object, and this time Kíli could see shadows of anger flickering in Thranduil’s eyes. For his part, Kíli could scarcely believe he’d dared to make such an accusation. However, Bilbo and Gandalf were nodding in agreement with his words.

“I saw them change, especially Thorin, the longer we remained in the mountain. By the time Fíli and Kíli arrived, he was fully under its power. He is not the dwarrow I grew to think of as a friend,” the hobbit added.

Thranduil’s face was impassive when he spoke. “What is it you would offer then? Your brother seems to hold little influence with Thorin Oakenshield, and I would think it unlikely that Dáin would weight his words over those of the King.”

“His Highness would ask for safe passage for us both through your armies to speak to Dáin, so he may explain the situation to him in full before his Majesty can, and your word that you will not be the ones to begin hostilities. Dáin’s people lost much in our wars with the orcs, the battle for Khazad-dûm [2] in particular; he has good reason to consider negotiation before battle.

“In exchange, Prince Fíli would return to you the necklace you desire,” Kíli reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the beautiful piece, offering it to the Elvenking. When he had first seen it, it had called to mind Tauriel’s passionate description of the elven love for starlight.

Thranduil took it from him with hands that Kíli was startled to see tremble slightly.

“I am sorry that it was withheld from you for so long,” he added softly.

“This is a gesture of good faith indeed. My people will do as you ask, Prince Kíli, for I do not wish to bear witness to another senseless loss of life either.”

Kíli could scarce believe it had been so easy, but he had seen the febrile light of gold in Thranduil’s eyes flicker out when he had taken the necklace. It must have had more significance to him than they had known. If only they could find something with the same effect on their uncle...

Turning next to Bard, he unhooked the heavy bag of gold from his belt. “It is not so much as you had asked for, but Prince Fíli hopes this is enough to purchase some supplies for your people. He has been arguing to go to your aid since arriving at Erebor.”

The bargeman took the bag from him to peer inside before nodding a grudging agreement. “You may speak to Dáin, and we will not be the first to attack.”

It was that reluctance in his voice, and words that went unspoken, that had Kíli straightening. “I should make clear then that Prince Fíli would open negotiations anew when the immediate danger of war is averted. The amount you have demanded of us is obscene, and we have hardly been in a position for fair bargaining. His Highness agrees that any treasure Smaug looted from Dale rightfully belongs to your people, but it will take time to make an accounting.   In the meantime, he would be prepared to offer aid more relevant to your people’s immediate needs: housing for the winter and technical assistance to restore Dale.

“My people will not return to Erebor to find themselves in a position subordinate to you. Prince Fíli wishes for an alliance, but we _will not_ be servants.”

“How would _you_ know what is best for _my_ people?” Bard demanded, his face twisted in fury. “It was the greed of dwarves which roused Smaug to destroy our home, which drew him here in the first place! Why should we not hold you here until Thorin gives us what we are owed? Surely he values his kin.”

Adrenaline flooded Kíli and he struggled to maintain his calm when all he could think of was _getting back to Fíli_. He could not leave the one he loved so deeply alone to face Thorin in his madness. To hear such a threat come from _Bard_ made Kíli fear that he and Fíli had sorely underestimated how far the poison of the gold had spread. Was there truly no way to avert the tragedy that others seemed content to run headlong into?

Even so, he could not hold back a bark of bitter laughter. “You have seen exactly how much he _values_ me, Bard. I am the spare prince, expendable. He left me behind on the docks to die when it seemed my injury might _delay_ him. The gold stands far above me in his regard now. Keep me if you like, but I will be of no use as a bargaining chip.”

Bard still seemed prepared to seize him, but they had all forgotten Gandalf. In the time Kíli had known him, he had primarily been content to remain in the background; the source of the occasional flashy trick, and advice which served more to irritate than guide his uncle. With that day to day routine, it had been easy for the memory of his awesome presence that day in Bag End to fade. As such, he was frozen when Gandalf once more let slip the constraints he held on his power.

“You will do no such thing, Bard, who claims Girion’s legacy,” the Grey Wizard thundered, voice echoing as if they stood in a great hall rather than a canvas tent. “Kíli will return to his brother tonight, and we will hear no more about this foolishness of keeping him hostage.” Decree made, he shrank back into his accustomed pose as an old man, but the impression of his presence lingered.

Bard seemed most affected, visibly shaken and blinking rapidly. “I-I don’t know what came over me. These past days I have thought of little but gaining my rightful due in order to help my people. When it sounded as if Prince Fíli wished to deny me the gold, I became irrationally furious. Even now, this amount seems a meagre offering in trade.”

“That is the insidious nature of treasure over which a dragon has long brooded,” Gandalf informed them all. “Keep that in mind, and it should help. Now, if you have finished with your foolishness, I would speak to Kíli privately before he returns to Erebor.”

“I must apologize, Kíli. I still owe you a debt for watching over my children and freeing me from prison. I never should have made such a threat.”

“We have an agreement, Prince Kíli. Please pass my regards along to your brother for the return of this necklace as well. I hope we may reach an accord once Dáin arrives.” Thranduil inclined his head gracefully to the startled dwarrow prince. “Captain Tauriel will remain to escort you back when you have finished conferring with Mithrandir.”

Tauriel glanced at her lord, shocked that he had reconsidered her demotion, but did not speak. Kíli did his best to catch her eye, giving her a discreet gesture of approval. It seemed Legolas caught the small movement as well, but this time his expression was amused.

Kíli bowed deeply back to the two leaders. “I understand, Bard. King Thorin is suffering from a similar affliction.” He carefully did not offer his forgiveness however. “I hope for the same, your Majesty.”

When Gandalf looked to Bard for his agreement as well as his apology, the bargeman merely nodded, mute. He was still turning over the idea that he had succumbed to the same lust for which he had condemned the dwarves. Kíli could only hope he made his peace with that, and that he would be more understanding of Thorin’s actions as a result.

Knowing he would get no more from the man, Kíli followed Gandalf in silence to a small tent nearby. The wizard turned to him with an approving smile once inside, gesturing for Kíli to sit on the cot while he occupied the sole chair.

“That was well done, Kíli, and I am sorry to say that I would not have expected it of you. But Bilbo,” he gestured for the hobbit to join them, the dwarrow only slightly surprised he had not noticed him following, “has been catching me up on what has happened within the mountain.”

Gandalf sighed heavily before continuing, and Kíli read regret but no apology in his bright blue eyes. “I had hoped that Thorin would be strong enough to resist the curse of the gold, as he had when Thrór fell to it.”

“You said just now it was _Smaug’s_ influence that was the problem, but there was no dragon in my great-grandfather’s time. What is going on, Gandalf?” Kíli asked helplessly.

“I was not entirely honest back there, no. This whole problem dates back, in truth, to when Durin III accepted a ring from Celebrimbor. Unfortunately, the gift was tainted by Sauron’s hand in its creation. He had intended to ensnare the dwarf lords to his service as he had some men, but Aulë’s [3] children proved too stubborn. In some dwarves however, those rings awoke an insatiable lust for treasure. Thrór bore Durin’s ring for many years, and it was his amassing of wealth which drew the dragon.”

“Between the lingering influence of the ring and of Smaug himself, the gold works a strange spell on the minds of those who draw near. It twists even the purest intentions into the need to hoard all the treasure for oneself, and the stronger those intentions, the more powerful its grasp.”

“That is why Uncle is so affected,” Kíli realized. “He has always viewed the wealth of Erebor as a chance for a better life for our people.”

“Correct, Kíli. And I would wager than most of your Company has hoped for more to improve the lives of themselves or their families as some point.”

“...so why have Fíli and I remained unaffected?” It was a relief to finally have some answers about what was happening to his kin, but that was a point which had confused him since Bilbo had first mentioned it. With Gandalf finally providing more than cryptic hints, he was going to ask as many questions as he could.

But it was Bilbo who answered. “Both you and Fíli have spoken of your life in the Ered Luin as if you miss it, but none of the others ever did. Their goal has always been the mountain and the treasure within. When you arrived and found the others acting so strangely because of it, I think that destroyed all chance of it gaining an influence over you.”

He nodded slowly, thinking hard. “Our life was sometimes hard, but Fíli and I never felt it lacking. Though Thorin always spoke of the mountain as it would solve all of our problems, it seemed more like a fireside tale than something we would ever experience. Fíli learned what he would need to rule Erebor out of respect for Thorin, not from a desire to be King. And Amad and Adad [4] taught us to be proud of the lives we had built for ourselves.”

Gandalf smiled. “I am sure your parents would be proud of you both.”

Kíli grinned back weakly. “Thank you. But it still feels as if we have not done _enough_.” He looked up at the wizard pleadingly. “How can we help Thorin? He grows more distant every day, and yet it does not feel right acting behind his back.”

“I am sorry, Kíli, but that will have to wait until after Dáin arrives. It will take some time for me to examine the enchantments on the gold and determine if they can be broken.”

He closed his eyes in pain as Gandalf’s words snuffed out his fragile hope that the wizard would be able to fix Thorin as easily as he had brought him back after the confrontation with Azog. The archer allowed himself only a brief moment to mourn, opening his eyes to meet Gandalf’s calmly. “I understand. It would be difficult to give you the opportunity to work over the treasure while Thorin is so suspicious, in any case. The hold the gold has over the others seems to be waning; perhaps Fíli will soon be able to persuade them to aid us.”

The grey wizard appeared somewhat taken aback by Kíli’s calm acceptance, making the dwarrow hide a smile. He supposed his behaviour seemed far distant from the young enthusiast he had appeared to be for much of the quest. For all that he rarely showed it, he had been trained in diplomacy alongside Fíli.

“Will you join us when we speak to Dáin? Your words on what is afflicting Thorin will be respected, Tharkûn.[5] I know Fíli would welcome the support. It would go a long way to averting any suspicions that he is looking to usurp the throne.”

“Of course.” Gandalf paused, eyeing Kíli as he stood and prepared to depart. “I had told Master Baggins I was most surprised by his courage, but perhaps I should have been speaking of you and your brother. Few would have the resolve to do as you have, standing opposed to your uncle and King when you know his actions to be wrong. Indeed, Thorin himself did not, nor Thráin, when the sickness took hold of Thrór.”

Kíli was left speechless. Never before had he been told that he had more courage than _Thorin_ , though he knew he would not have been able to act without Fíli’s unwavering faith in him.

He knew that he had stuttered out an awkward thanks to Gandalf for the compliment and the information he had provided, but he could not have said what. He had a clearer recollection of embracing Bilbo in farewell, and wishing the best for the hobbit. All he could truly think of was returning to Erebor, to Fíli. Gandalf’s kind words had edged him over some precipice and he had reached his limit of acting the Prince. He just wanted to get back to his brother and lose himself in his arms and be nothing more than _Kíli._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Gandalf - Elven name
> 
> [2] Moria
> 
> [3] Mahal's
> 
> [4] Mother and Father
> 
> [5] Gandalf - Dwarven name


	14. Voice of Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili returns with news, and Fili decides it is past time to speak to the Company about Thorin's actions.

Fíli’s chest felt tight the entire time Kíli was gone. It was as though the mountain itself was pressing down on him, driving the air from his lungs. He only managed to catch a full breath once more when Kíli came back into sight, cautiously edging around the water in the flickering torchlight from the wall.

Almost as soon as Kíli had taken his first step back onto the rampart, Fíli had him in a crushing embrace, breathing deeply of his brother’s scent and letting it fill up the empty places which had grown the longer his fate was uncertain. Kíli held him back just as fiercely, and it was some time before either of them spoke.

“You are well?” Fíli asked quietly. Kíli’s mission must have gone reasonably smoothly, for him to have returned, but he still needed to hear it aloud.

“I am.” The archer huffed a shaky laugh. “It went even better than I had hoped, nadad, but I would rather not repeat the experience. I fear the adrenaline has left me unsteady.”

It was a simple matter for Fíli to shift, tucking a broad shoulder under his brother’s arm to support him. “I would hear everything, but first, we should perhaps retire to the room we claimed earlier.”

Kíli simply nodded, allowing him to guide him without hesitation. Fíli might have been worried by his silence, but he could feel his brother trembling. He would regain his usual humour as the aftershocks faded.

The path from the Gate to their room was a short one, chosen in order to receive news of Dáin’s arrival before the others could. Kíli stripped down to his comfortable undertunics and joined Fíli where he leaned against the wall, the blond quick to curl into his side. It had become a favourite way to sit since their relationship had gained this new dimension. That day it allowed him to feel for himself as Kíli’s tremors subsided.

“How’s Bilbo?”

Kíli chuckled. “Our burglar would be flattered to hear that you asked after him before negotiations. He is as well as can be expected. The first words out of his mouth were an apology, and he holds no grudge against any of us.”

“It’s good to hear he’s well. I hope they treat him with honour, better than what we managed. Perhaps after Thorin returns to himself, we can convince Bilbo to stay for a time.”

“Me too. Surely he could not think of journeying home this close to winter!”

“Bard and Thranduil agreed to the bargain?”

“They did, though Bard was...” a yawn interrupted Kíli mid-reply. “I’m sorry, nadad, this night has sapped much of my energy.”

Though he was impatient to hear what had transpired, he would not push his exhausted brother further. Tilting his head up to smile at Kíli, the blond noticed his heavy-lidded eyes, the way he struggled to keep them open. Even as Fíli leaned in to kiss him gently, Kíli fought down another yawn.

“No, I should apologize. Rest, Kíli, you can share your experiences tomorrow. For now, it is enough to have you back and for the bargain to be struck.”

“Mmm, thanks, Fí.” Kíli wrapped his arms around his shorter brother and somehow managed to shift and wriggle until they were in their bedrolls.

Fíli sighed happily and curled into his embrace. They exchanged a few sleepy kisses before the blond found a yawn cracking his own jaw wide. The aftermath of the tension which held him fast while Kíli had been gone was leaving him drained as well. All in all, it did not take long for the pair to drop into deep, dreamless slumber, tangled up with each other.

__________

“Really? It was _Bard_ who was reluctant to negotiate?”

Kíli nodded, the interruption an opportunity to take another bite from his jerky.

The pair had woken late that morning after their late night, bringing their makeshift breakfast to a high overlook where they could watch for Dáin’s arrival and speak with a reasonable assumption they would not be overheard. Once they had slept, Fíli was eager to hear Kíli’s tale. He had assumed that the Elvenking would be a bigger obstacle to their hopes than Bard; it was a shock to hear otherwise.

“I was startled too, Fí. But once I gave Thranduil that necklace, we could have asked for much more than we did.” Kíli’s tone turned thoughtful. “It must have belonged to someone he cared for. It shamed me, asking for a deal in exchange. All I could think of was someone demanding I bargain to have something of yours returned, if I had lost you.”

Fíli reached out to squeeze his brother’s hand, not wishing to imagine such a thing coming to pass. “I regret the necessity as well, Kí. Perhaps, when this is all over, we can apologize. As it is, I am more relieved it was enough to break the spell of the treasure.”

“Me too, Fí. Gandalf confirmed that it _is_ an enchantment. Once we can negotiate with Dáin, he’ll come to see if it may be broken.”

“Is there nothing he can do sooner?” he asked hopefully. But Kíli was already shaking his head in regret.

“He implied that it was all Smaug’s influence after he shouted down Bard’s stubbornness, but he later told me otherwise. Durin’s ring that Great Grandfather held has always been the cause of the goldsickness in our line, and that’s now combined with the dragon’s thrall. Tharkûn [1] said that the more someone feels they _need_ the treasure, the stronger hold it has.”

“So that’s why Thorin’s so affected?”

“Bard too,” Kíli agreed.

It felt like there was something the archer was leaving out about the confrontation with Bard, but Fíli trusted that Kíli would not withhold anything of importance. Instead, he asked, “so why are we free of its influence?”

The brunet threw his head back and laughed, Fíli smiling in bemusement. It was a nice change to have a happy moment, out in the weak winter sunlight. “That was my first question as well,” he replied when he was done. “It was Bilbo who pointed out that we were never actually _interested_ in the wealth of the mountain, even less so once it had poisoned the others.”

“Our clear-sighted burglar,” Fíli chuckled affectionately. “I wonder if Gandalf knew how much we would come to rely on him.”

Kíli snorted. “I’m not sure we should credit the wizard with that much foresight. I think Bilbo even surprised _him_.” But his face turned pensive. “You know, Gandalf said that we surprised him too.”

“What?”

“He told me that he wasn’t expecting us to stand against the others in this, against Uncle. Thorin and Thráin did not, when it was Thrór.”

Fíli was taken aback. He had always believed they were acting as their uncle had, when he was in their place. “So...what might have been different if they had?”

It was easy to imagine an Erebor that had never fallen because Thrór had been prevented from hoarding gold. Perhaps they might have the chance to meet their great-grandparents, their grandparents, their other uncle... Perhaps their mother would not have the lines that labour and sorrow had carved into her features.... Perhaps Thorin would never have needed the gold so much it drove him mad...

He was drawn out of his imaginings when Kíli grasped his hand and spoke, “perhaps we never would have been born.”

He was left speechless, his ‘what ifs’ fading as the fanciful dreams they were.

“We cannot afford to think that way, nadad. If they had never left Erebor, would Amad and Adad [2]have met and married? We would certainly not be the same. For all the hardship of our lives, I don’t regret it. Nor would I change anything about you, razdûn-ê.”[3]

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Kíli smiled sadly. “It was written all over your face, Fí. Besides, I thought some of the same things on my return last night, but it all led back to the same conclusion.”

Fíli sighed. He wouldn’t give up Kíli for anything. “You’re right, nadad. We can’t change the past; we just have to deal with what is.” He just couldn’t help wishing for an easier life for his mother, and for Thorin. For the weight of the kingdom to be lifted from his own shoulders. He slumped over to lean on Kíli, counting on his support.

He slumped further into the archer when he wrapped an arm over Fíli’s shoulders, turning to nose into the thick blond hair. Thought they had ventured outside for the freedom, the vista ahead was a sobering reminder of what was at stake. Front and centre lay the camp of their erstwhile besiegers. More distant still were the ruins of Dale, and the charred skeleton of Laketown haunted the edge of his vision. It wasn’t a welcoming sight.

“I wish we were home,” he muttered quietly.

“Me too, Fí.”

As if to distract them both from their melancholy, Kíli grasped Fíli’s chin and tilted it until he could catch him in a gentle kiss. He was, as always, happy to lose himself in this new expression of their bond. When the heir at last pulled away, he echoed Kíli’s small noise of discontent.

“I know, Kí. But I should go and speak to the others before Dáin arrives. It will help us not at all if he agrees but the rest of the Company has been swayed back to Thorin’s side. Their help would be an asset in gaining Gandalf the time to inspect the treasure as well.”

Kíli grinned up at him ruefully as he stood, reaching to once more tangle their fingers together and brushing a kiss across the back of Fíli’s hand. “You will win them, I know it. I’m simply greedy enough to wish I could keep you all to myself; or, failing that, that I didn’t have to remain on watch duty. I would stand by your side always, my King.”

The breath caught in Fíli’s throat, that Kíli would again title him thus. With them so distant from the others, this time his answering surge of emotion was more pride than fear. He stood a little straighter, shoulders back and chest out, a precious surge of confidence granted by his brother’s unwavering faith. Kíli had succeeded in his far more dangerous task only the night before; he would not fail in persuading their kin. After all, with Thorin’s actions towards Bilbo, they were half-won already.

__________

It was a simple matter for Fíli to locate the Company. They were already clustered around the small cookfire, naturally gravitating back into small family groupings in their uncertainty. Even Balin and Dwalin were present for once.

“Where is Uncle?” the heir asked quietly.

“Thorin is deep within the treasure hoard. The loss of the Arkenstone was a great blow, he wishes to reassure himself,” Balin weakly attempted to justify. “It is likely he will not return for some time.”

“I am pleased to hear that.” Fíli paused to meet the eyes of each member of the Company before speaking once more. “It pains me to be even suggesting this, but Thorin’s reasoning is no longer sound. I fear that his actions against Bilbo will only be the beginning if we do not act.”

Dead silence greeted him, Bifur the only one not looking at him as if he had gone mad himself or staring fixedly at the floor. But then, the old warrior had already expressed his support. The reaction was not quite what Fíli had hoped, but it was better than his fears had suggested. The only thing to do was keep on, and hope they would come to see his point.

“Thorin is gold sick. We all know it. Thrór’s madness is the reason that Erebor was lost, we cannot allow Thorin’s to prevent us from reclaiming it.”

“What are you suggesting, lad?” Dwalin demanded. “We cannot defy our King.”

“I do not wish to ignore his will either, but you know Thorin is not himself. Do you truly believe that he would want what is occurring? We cannot afford a war!”

“And you would have us bow our heads to the demands of those cowards at the Gate? Just hand over our treasure, treasure they have no right to?” Glóin demanded. “We will need this gold to rebuild our kingdom!”

“I would not simply hand it over. I agree that Bard asks too much. But we have not even attempted negotiation!”

“Negotiation? How could we _negotiate_ , with two armies at our door?” Dwalin again.

“Bard is a reasonable man. Had we not turned away his plea for aid in the first place, we would have been in a better position to set terms. And Thranduil has only asked for the return of a single necklace, surely that is not so much to give. Even now, once Dáin arrives, we will no longer be negotiating from a vulnerable position.”

The burly Warmaster scoffed. “Yes, of course the men would have forgotten their greed if we had played nice from the start.”

“They would have seen us as weak, and demanded every ounce of gold they could wring from our coffers, lad,” Glóin added, his kind but condescending tone itching at Fíli. He had hoped to speak of Kíli’s successful envoy to Bard and Thranduil, but it seemed it would do more harm with present attitudes. If only he could think of a way to break them from focussing on old resentments...

“I would rather give in to their demands, overblown as they may be, than see our blood shed for _gold_. Have we not already seen enough loss of life? Smaug, the years on the road, Azanulbizar and all that led up to it... Our people have known enough of loss. Thorin would have seen us at war even before Dáin arrived, a fight we would inevitably lose.”

“Have a care how you speak, lad,” Balin cautioned. “Your words could easily be seen as treason.”

“I know, Balin, but someone _must_ speak.” Fíli paused for a moment, considering. It was as if he was walking the knife’s edge, and one careless word would lose his chance to sway them.   Some few of the dwarves around him were already nodding in agreement, but they would never speak without a compelling reason. It was his Uncle’s closest companions who he would have to persuade; those sprung from the line of Durin themselves.

“In truth, I wish I did not have to. You _know_ I have no desire to challenge Thorin’s leadership, nor to speak against him. But the gold is poisoning his thoughts and probably has been since Laketown or before. Can you not see it? Thorin owes Bilbo his life; he should never have threatened him for trying to save us! Or are you all still taken by that cursed gold as well?”

“It would have been no more than that damned burglar deserves,” Dwalin grumbled. “Trying to save us by giving away the greatest treasure of our people? That wizard’s pet was just trying to ingratiate himself with those the wizard truly favours.”

“Uncle always told me that our people’s greatest treasure is our strength to endure. The Arkenstone is merely a gem, however beautiful. All Bilbo was trying to do was avert a battle, and he offered his own share of the treasure to do so. It is his right to spend his reward as he sees fit, and yet his choice was to give it away. Not because he is Gandalf’s pet. Because he is our friend, and he would not see our journey end in battle.”

“The Prince is right,” Bofur spoke up at last. “Bilbo’s been a true friend to us all.”

Fíli turned to Balin beseechingly. “You’ve stood by Thorin for years, as an advisor and friend. Can you tell me truly that you ever thought he could repay a friend by trying to cast him over a wall? He owes Bilbo a _life debt_. And your warning of treason, there was real fear in your voice. Fear of what Thorin might do to me if he heard. Is my Uncle that kind of tyrant then, to harm family for airing their concerns?”

“Not to mention what he said to Kíli,” Nori muttered, unexpected support.

It was clear the moment Balin surrendered. “No, lad, he is not.” Suddenly he looked very old and very sad. “I should have said something long since, but I have lived through one King’s madness; I desperately did not wish for Thorin to fall to the same.”

Fíli stepped closer to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know, Balin. But we could lose everything if we do nothing; it is my duty as his heir to make certain that never happens.”

With Balin’s agreement, it seemed that all the fight had gone from Dwalin as well. He knew it must be even more painful for the Warmaster. Dwalin had been Thorin’s shield brother for over a century, and had not an advisor’s responsibility to question his leader. Glancing around at the others, he could see cautious agreement on most faces, Glóin and Dori still disgruntled.

“But we cannot simply ignore Thorin’s wishes, it’s just not proper,” Dori fussed.

“And what of the gold?” Glóin asked. “Would you have us simply hand it over?”

That damned treasure! Fíli wished he could simply dispose of it all and declare the matter closed. Once the mines were working again they would be able to generate more wealth: through metals and gems wrested from the earth, and beautiful pieces wrought by dwarven hands. Perhaps new workings would no longer carry the dragon’s taint.

“What would you have us do, Fíli?” Balin asked, ignoring their objections.

Fíli sighed in relief. “I do not wish to take precipitous action. For now, it will be enough to ignore any commands from Thorin that would send us to war. In interest of that, I would like the opportunity to speak to Dáin before Thorin can.”

“Me and some of the other lads can trade off watches at the wall,” Bofur offered. “Bring you any news before we tell Thorin.”

“Excellent, thank you.” Fíli looked around the circle, “I wish to make it clear; I have no intentions of usurping my Uncle. He has been a great leader to our people. I only desire to stop this looming conflict so that we may have time to return him to himself. I would see him lead our people for many years to come.”

Even the more mutinous members of the Company relaxed at that. “I suppose you have my support then,” Dori gave grudging agreement.

“How are you going to do that though?” Ori asked, looking surprised that he had ventured the question. “No one ever broke the goldsickness on Thrór, did they?”

“I suppose I should confess: Kíli and I were never searching for the Arkenstone. Instead, we have been spending hours in the library looking for information on the condition and potential cures.” Fíli chuckled at their startled looks. “Bilbo had been helping us, before...”

Balin joined his laughter. “I never thought I would see the day when you and that brother of yours would spend hours _reading_.”

Ori had a different priority. “You found the library? Where is it?”

“Did you find any solutions?” Dwalin asked at the same time, eager to hear an affirmative.

“I’ll show you the library later, Ori.” He became more serious in his response to Dwalin. “We had not yet found a cure, but I am still hopeful.”

Fíli toyed with the idea of mentioning Kíli’s efforts once more, but the Company was still too unsure. With so much lingering animosity towards the men, and Thranduil in particular... There would be time for that later. “In particular, I would welcome the opportunity to speak with Gandalf. He knew Thrór at least; perhaps he will have some information.”

Immediately the grumbling began once more, Glóin and Dwalin cursing the wizard quietly.

“I know you do not trust him at present, but I do not believe he bears us ill will. If he truly wished to hand our treasure over to the men and elves, we would not be on this quest,” Fíli pointed out calmly. “He did not have to approach Thorin that day in Bree, nor hand over the map and key. He could have given them to Thranduil instead, or the Master of Laketown.”

“It was the burglar he insisted we bring who handed over the Arkenstone,” Glóin argued.

“The same burglar who stalled the trolls, saved Thorin’s life, and freed us from Thranduil’s dungeons? Yes, Bilbo has been a _terrible_ choice of companion,” he could not contain his frustration. Fíli was drained from what felt like a never-ending argument. He had been making some of the same points since the day they had arrived. At least they were finally listening.

“Bilbo could have stayed safe in his home. He didn’t owe us anything, but he’s risked his life for our sake,” Bofur agreed stoutly. “I’d just like to apologize to him for that scene on the wall.”

“Me too,” Bombur said quietly, ducking his head.

Glóin grumbled, but did not deny it.

“Where’s your shadow today anyways, Fíli?” Nori asked. He gave Fíli a sly wink when no one was watching; changing the conversation deliberately before any more arguments could occur.

It took Fíli a moment to realize who he was referring to, a grin spreading as he did. “Kíli’s found an overlook higher on the mountain to watch for any sign of Dáin. He should be here any day now, after all.”

Nori’s face turned considering. “Perhaps I should have offered to teach him as well. Kíli has some good instincts for information gathering, you could use another like that by your side. He was usually off doing other things to help around the settlement though.”

Fíli smiled, pleased at the acknowledgment of Kíli’s abilities. He was about to respond that Kíli would still welcome such instruction, but Dwalin spoke first.

“ _Information gathering_ is what you call it now, thief?”

Nori simply laughed in response. Fíli could remember when such accusations were serious, for Dwalin had always taken his responsibilities as guardsman seriously, but Nori had provided a lot of help for Thorin’s rule over the years. The accusations had turned good natured after years of forced cooperation, and the words were a well worn joke after so long. As they continued sniping at each other playfully, Balin turned to Fíli.

“I will write you a letter for Dáin explaining the situation. You have earned my respect, and I understand what you are trying to accomplish, but your lord cousin does not know you well. He and I may not always agree, but he will heed my words.”

“Thank you, Balin. I appreciate it greatly,” Fíli smiled at his tutor. “I would not have him misunderstand my intent.”

The elder dwarf returned his smile. “I know, lad. I think Dáin will understand. After seeing his father fall at Azanulbizar, he will not wish to lose any of his people in an unneeded conflict.”

The heir nodded. Looking around at the playful teasing, he felt a wisp of hope unfurl. These dwarves may not have committed to following him unreservedly, but their agreement to help fend off a fight was enough. It was time to return to Kíli, and marshal his arguments for Dáin.

“Ori, if you follow me up, I’ll show you to the library. Bofur, will you take the first watch?” Both agreed happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Gandalf
> 
> [2] Mother and Father
> 
> [3] my sun


	15. A Darkening Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reith returns bearing news.

When he made it back to Kíli at last, the archer looked up with a broad grin lighting his face. “Fí! You were gone longer than I had expected. How did it go?”

Any reply he had intended to make died on his lips when he truly saw the state of his brother. Kíli’s ears and nose had long since reddened from cold, the chill wind chapping his skin and tinting his lips blue. Had he not been wearing his armour, Fíli would likely have never noticed the shivers that rattled across the banded plates of his mail. A hand used to cup his face confirmed what Fíli already knew, as Kíli turned into the warmth and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

“You’re _frozen_ , nadad.   Why did you not go inside hours ago?”

Kíli chuckled sheepishly. “I didn’t notice until I felt your hand? You know that on hunting trips, sometimes I must remain in the same place for hours, unmoving. I became used to ignoring the cold.”

Fíli sighed before reaching out to easily pull him to his feet and steady him until his numb legs adjusted. “Bofur is on watch now, and they have all agreed to come to us rather than Thorin with news, so let’s retreat to our rooms and get you warmed up.”

“Sounds good to me, Fí.”

Their walk back to the room they had claimed passed in companionable silence. Inside, Kíli immediately moved to take off the cold steel which shrouded him, Fíli relieved to follow suit. He was not pleased to always be armed and armoured within the mountain, a place that was _supposed_ to be home.

Stripped down to his undertunics, Kíli spoke once more. “It sounds as though you persuaded the others of _something_ , nadad. How much support can we expect of them?”

His exhaustion seeped into his reply. “Very little beyond what I have already related. They were expectedly reluctant to admit to what has happened to Thorin. I’m unsure how much is their dedicated loyalty, and how much the lingering effects of the gold. In the end, I did get them to commit to ignoring any orders which would send us into battle. Balin is composing a letter for Dáin in support, though it would be best to read it ourselves first.” Fíli exhaled heavily. “I told them nothing of your efforts. Old prejudices still remain strong, and I didn’t wish to complicate the issue. There are a few who I would trust to ask small favours from, but we cannot depend on them to truly defy Thorin.”

“Oh, Fí,” Kíli opened his arms and Fíli fell into them gladly. Arguing with those who in better times would be his supporters had been draining; it was a comfort to have Kíli’s strength so freely offered.

“I don’t _want_ this; I feel as though I am trying to steal Thorin’s dream. He’s the one who has worked tirelessly to see our people home, he deserves better than us negotiating behind his back.”

“I know, sannadad. But when Uncle returns to himself, I don’t think he will fault you for anything you have done. It has all been to preserve the future of our people. Were he himself, I don’t believe he’d put gold ahead of their welfare.” He huffed out a self-deprecating chuckle. “If anything, his anger will be directed at _me_. I dared to negotiate with _elves_ after all; Thranduil at that. And even though Gandalf has confirmed that it is not his fault, I cannot entirely let go of my anger at Thorin for putting gold ahead of all else.”

“You’re probably right, though Uncle has always shown a reluctance to bargain with other peoples. But you cannot bear sole blame for negotiating with Thranduil; it was I who suggested the return of the necklace.

“...and your anger is not completely unfounded. I’m having a hard time myself, forgiving his decision to leave you behind, and not to seek help for your injury sooner. I would have indebted myself to the Master a hundred times over if it meant you were safe, Kí.”

Kíli ducked his head to bury his face in the side of Fíli’s neck, and his voice was muffled as a result, though the blond had little difficulty understanding him. “I know, Fí. I cannot say enough of how much it meant that you would stay behind for me. It must have been a challenge for you, to defy Thorin like that.”

“No,” he shook his head in denial, clutching Kíli tighter, “it would have been far harder to leave you behind, Kí. Especially with you so severely injured.”

“I’m alright now, Fí. I healed. You got me to a safe place and I healed. And together we’ll keep the Company together and Erebor safe for Thorin, until he is himself once more.”

“Together...” Fíli breathed the word.

“Always, Fí, I swear it.”

* * *

In the end however, all of their careful planning and negotiations came to naught. Up on their high perch the next morning, they had only just caught sight of Dáin’s army on the horizon when Reith flew to them, screeching in terror.

“Orcs! Orcs are coming!”

“Reith, what? How many orcs?”

“Countless numbers pour down from the mountains in the North. Wargs and bats travel with them, and they are led by a scarred white orc riding a great white warg. Another giant orc seamed with metal plates rides at his side.”

“Azog.” The hated name rumbled from his throat on a snarl. “How soon will they be here?”

“Hours.”

“What? How did they get so close without notice?” Kíli cut in to ask.

Reith ruffled her feathers in agitation. “We have been remaining close to the mountain because of the building conflict with the elves and men. Our scouts travelled South and East; it is only by chance they were spotted.”

As much as Fíli wanted to take a moment to give in to the terror surging through him, he could not afford to lose his composure. “Thank you for bringing us this news. Mahal grant that it is enough of a warning. Will you bring this message to Dáin as well?”

“It is already done, your Highness. My brother flew to him even as I came to you.”

“And the elves and men?”

Reith fluttered, startled. “But you are in conflict with them.”

“We cannot afford to be at odds with them now. From what you have said of their numbers, we must fight together or none will survive the orcs. I would request that you carry this news to Thranduil, Bard, and Gandalf. Ask them if they would please speak to Dáin to coordinate our forces. Pass along my apologies for not joining them, I must rally our Company.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Reith bobbed her head in a raven’s bow. “I will return with their response.”

“We owe you and your tribe a great debt of gratitude, messenger. Fly swift and safe.”

He and Kíli were quiet as they traversed the winding halls and ramps within the mountain to meet with the others, each lost in their own thoughts. Fíli did his best to fight down despair, but he was failing. They had spent so long trying to avert bloodshed, and now they were facing an enemy who could not be reasoned with. An enemy who had sworn to destroy them utterly. And yet, his deepest dread was not the possibility of his own death, but that he would suffer Thorin’s fate. Watching his King fall to the pale orc would be devastating, but to lose Kíli as Thorin had lost Frerin...that would destroy him. He prayed that whatever outcome the Maker chose, life or death, he and Kíli would face it together. But at the same time, he would rather ensure that Kíli would be nowhere near the battlefield.

So lost in thought was he that he missed their arrival at the Treasury, until Kíli reached out and pulled him close. The archer raised a hand to caress his face gently, leaning in to feather a kiss across his lips as a thumb traced his tidy beard. Fíli smiled in spite of himself when his brother tugged on one of the braids which framed his mouth.

“Remember, Fíli, I am with you.”

The affirmation set relief and worry warring within him, but Fíli could not ignore his duty. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and headed in, Kíli a scant pace behind.

Bombur was the first to spot the pair, and his usual quiet greeting went unspoken when he caught sight of their expressions. Bofur followed his brother’s line of sight to see them next.

“Good morning, my princes,” the miner called in cheery welcome. “Bifur was just about to head up to relieve you on watch, what brings you here?”

Fíli winced, knowing his words would destroy that cheer. “The ravens have arrived with more news. Azog is almost here, and he brings an army at his back. We must prepare for battle.”

“How many, Fíli?” Dwalin asked, preparing to act in his position as Uzraku’ezgh.[1] He was the first to dare to break the fearful hush which had fallen with the name of the dreaded Gundabad orc.

“Reith only said ‘countless’. I would imagine that Azog has emptied the stinking orc dens in the Misty Mountains to build his army.”

“And Dáin?”

“Has only just arrived. It appears as though he brought perhaps five hundred of his warriors. I asked the ravens to carry the news to him as well to Thranduil, Bard, and Gandalf.”

Dwalin only nodded in absent approval. “Aye, we will need to coordinate our defense. Bard has about two hundred men, though I would wager most are untrained. With Thranduil’s warriors, we should be able to give that filth a proper fight.” The warrior bared his teeth in a fierce smile. “We’ll make this a fight to remember, the first time all three peoples have fought together since the _so-called_ Last Alliance.” Fíli almost grinned at Dwalin’s familiar gripe, taking exception to the ‘of elves and men’ portion of the epithet.

“How long do we have before our guests arrive?”

“Hours.”

“How did they get so close?” Ori asked, a little fearfully.

“The ravens were scouting elsewhere,” Kíli answered. “And the orcs most likely travelled at night. They must have followed the Thafar’abbad [2] as far as possible.”

“Dwalin, can you ensure that everyone is properly armed and armoured? And...” Fíli paused, feeling shame for what he was about to ask, though not enough to deter him, “Balin, will you inform Thorin? He deserves to know that Azog haunts us still.”

“Of course,” the brothers responded in near unison.

“Thank you. I must arm myself before returning to the wall to hear any further news the ravens may bring.”

While Fíli was finishing final instructions to Balin and Dwalin, he noticed Óin take Kíli aside briefly. Kíli did not look concerned however, so inquiring after what he wanted could wait. Finished, Fíli strode off purposefully to where his armour and the vast majority of his weapons still waited, his brother at his side.

“What did Óin want?” he questioned the archer when they had made it there. He was only paying partial attention to the response, carefully reordering his tunics and belts so they would lie smoothly under his armour. Nothing could be allowed to tangle or chafe. It would be better if he had a padded gambeson, but fabrics had not survived the long years of the dragon.

Kíli was doing the same nearby. “He just gave me some numbing salve he had made in Laketown. I hadn’t needed it as he thought I might, my injury healed so well; but he suggested it might prevent any odd twinges during the fight.”

Suddenly, Kíli had his full attention, all of his earlier reservations roaring back full force. “I don’t want you in this fight, Kíli.”

The archer spun to face him, hurt. “What? Of course I’ll be there.”

“It’s not a good idea. I know your leg still pains you at times,” Fíli tried to argue. “You shouldn’t take the risk.”

“Fí, I’ll go mad staying behind while you’re on the battlefield.” He moved closer, reaching out to his brother. “You need me to watch your back.”

The swordsman had a sudden, terrible idea of how to make Kíli stay behind. Even though it pained him to do it, he pushed Kíli’s outstretched hands away and twisted his face in contempt. “ _I_ need _you_ to watch my back? You, who could scarcely walk after a single arrow wound? You’ll only be a liability.”

More poisonous words waited on the tip of his tongue, but he could not make himself continue. Not with the way Kíli had gone dead white and begun to sway on his feet.

“A liability? Is that what you truly think of me?” Kíli asked quietly, voice choked with the tears he would not allow himself to shed. When Fíli said nothing in response, he chuckled brokenly and muttered, “a liability for you, a burden to Thorin... You both should have left me to die in Laketown.”

As much as Fíli wished to convince Kíli to stay behind, he could not listen to another word. He had expected that Kíli would get angry, not this pained acceptance. He finished closing the distance between them and swept his brother into a fierce embrace. Confused and hurt, Kíli merely stood, but at least he was not pushing him away.

“Oh, nadad, please forgive me. I love you so much; you’re not a burden or a liability. You have been my strength.”

“Then why did you say those things?” his voice was small and lost.

“I was hoping to convince you to stay behind.”

“But why? I know you’re still worried about my leg, but truly, the salve is only a precaution. I am fully prepared for combat.”

“I know, Kíli, but... I don’t _want_ you to be.”

Kíli stiffened and tried to pull away. “How could you say that?”

“I don’t want to lose you!” The words tore out of him. “I’m afraid, not for my own life, but for yours. Losing Frerin was devastating for Thorin, and we are closer still than they were. You have been the centre of my world since the day you were born, Kí. Adad’s death was enough; I do not wish to see you join him for many years.”

Hjalli’s death had taken a long time for Fíli to come to terms with. It had been difficult to let go of the tiny kernel of resentment that Kíli had not saved him, however much he hated himself for even thinking it. That, mixed with the guilt he felt for not insisting on taking out another patrol to help had kept him awake on many nights. Kíli, wrestling with his own dark thoughts, had frequently crawled in to share his bed for the simple comfort of having someone breathing beside him. Though they were not dwarflings any longer, Fíli could never bring himself to refuse.

Kíli’s voice drew his attention back. “I don’t want to lose you either, Fí. That’s why I _must_ go with you. We fight better together, we always have.”

“But...”

“You said that we would stay together in this only yesterday, Fíli. Or did you not mean it?” Though Kíli was clearly trying hard to sound calm and logical, the hurt lingered in his voice. His brother’s sometimes shaky self-confidence had already been bruised by Thorin. Fíli would have to make up for the damage his words, however well-intentioned, had done to his lover. It would take time, but he could at least begin.

“Of course I meant it, Kí. I’m sorry. I’m just afraid. I almost lost you once already, and this is going to be the biggest battle we’ve ever seen.”

At last Kíli’s arms moved from his sides to return the embrace. “And how do you think I would feel; if I remained behind and lost you, Fí? I meant it when I said _always_ , nadad. I would rather risk death by your side than live on alone.” Fíli choked at the thought and shook his head in frantic denial, but Kíli continued softly, “you feel the same way, or you would not have asked me to stay behind. Please, as much as I wish we could both remain safe, _please_ do not ask me to leave your side.”

Fíli was torn, shivering in Kíli’s arms and counting on his strength even as some part of him wished his brother far away. He couldn’t even begin to articulate how he was feeling.

“Fí, you said it yourself. ‘I belong with my brother’.”

At that, Fíli lost his composure entirely. He let out a great hiccoughing sob and buried his face in Kíli’s shoulder, tears soaking in to rough wool. It was all too much, the madness, the pressure, and the unravelling of all their attempts to stave off war... He was left breathing heavily, trying to rein in his tears, knowing it was not the time to break down. Kíli was crying as well; he could feel hot drops hitting his neck to slide under his collar.

It took a few minutes for his shuddering breaths to calm. “You’re right, Kí, I’m sorry. I would be proud to fight by your side. Just...promise you’ll be careful?”

Kíli chuckled weakly. “Only if you promise me the same.   We’ll get through this together.”

Not until they had separated once more and had settled their chain hauberks into place did either speak. When Kíli did, it was not a question Fíli had been expecting.

“Fíli, I’ve been injured before, sometimes badly. What made this wound so different that you would try to leave me behind?”

Startled, Fíli spun to look at his brother. It was not something he had considered; once Kíli had brought it up, his over-concern was obvious. “I suppose...perhaps it was because I felt so helpless. Until Tauriel arrived, you were dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it. You were fading away right in front of me... It might have been different had there not been so many other dangers. I’ve been riding that edge of tension since the night with the trolls...” It had taken Kíli’s question to make him realize how uncharacteristic his behaviour had been.

Ordinarily Fíli had a deep faith in Kíli and his abilities. It was true that Kíli had been injured many times, sometimes seriously. Not since he had reached his majority had Fíli been inclined to watch him so carefully once his injury had healed. Certainly Kíli had some minor twinges, but that was to be expected. Perhaps it was that looking after Kíli was familiar, when everything else had become so strange.

“I should apologize once again, nadad. My watchfulness does not stem from any doubt in your skills. I had not realized I had been doing so.”

Kíli laughed. “I know, amrâl.[3] You’ve only ever had the best intentions. I was merely curious, your concern for me is usually less overt,” he quirked a smile before reaching down for his splint mail.

The swordsman laughed in return. “I suppose I’m not as subtle as I had thought.” He was about to grab his own chest and back plates when a braid slipped over his shoulder. “Hey, Kí, before I put this on, will you braid my hair back for me? I would prefer it not be loose during the fight.”

“Of course, Fí.”

Fíli settled onto his knees while Kíli moved to stand behind him. His brother’s hands in his hair soothed the last of his frazzled nerves. He closed his eyes as Kíli’s long fingers combed through his thick waves, separating it into three sections that pulled in his existing braids. “Wait a moment. Can you take the beads out first? I don’t want to lose them.”

Kíli’s practiced hands quickly formed a tidy braid, securing the end with a leather thong. The only thing left to do was replace the aiglets on his moustache the same way.

“Would you braid my hair back as well?” Kíli asked when it was done.

A wide grin deepened the dimples framing his mouth. He _never_ had the opportunity to braid Kíli’s hair. He was quick to switch their positions, burying his fingers in the silky strands. There was little time to play as he truly wished, but his lack of practice gave him a welcome excuse to work slowly. The thick braid was wrapped in bands of leather thongs, hopefully preventing it from coming out the way braids usually would in Kíli’s soft hair.

Once they finished arming, Fíli found himself staring at Kíli as if he would never see him again. The archer looked every inch the dwarven warrior, proud and sturdy in his splint mail and armed to the teeth. He wanted to preserve the moment as if in amber, so that whatever happened, he would have this memory.

Kíli had a much more visceral idea. He cupped Fíli’s face in his palms and bent the scant few inches down to capture the swordsman in a fierce kiss. When Fíli moaned, he used the opportunity to map every inch of his mouth, the deep kiss sending Fíli reeling. The blond only wished there had been a final opportunity to explore each other’s bodies before they risked it all.

When Kíli at last released him, it was for a moment of wordless communication before they turned together to face whatever might come.

* * *

Fíli and Kíli stood on the ramparts of Erebor, watching in silence as the armies before their Gates reordered themselves after news of the new threat. It appeared as though the three leaders had agreed on true cooperation, divisions of each force positioned together in combined defense.

On each of the flanking spurs of the mountain, companies of elven archers along with the few bowmen from the ranks of dwarves and men had been positioned. There was a small force, primarily composed of dwarves, in front of Erebor itself; but the bulk of the troops were waiting in the wings to sweep in once the orc army committed. It was clear that those who devised the positioning hoped the enfilade from the archers would cause serious casualties, and the remaining enemy could be driven against the unyielding mountain and destroyed.

Kíli had received more education in tactics than he had, but Fíli saw the reasoning behind their strategy. The elven archers were high enough to have a clear view; they could pick their targets and hopefully avoid striking allies. Dwarven endurance would serve them well in keeping the enemy penned. And the untrained men would not be left to defend any one area, which would have been vulnerable due to their inexperience.

Regardless of whether Thorin joined them or not, Fíli intended to lead their small Company as part of the forces arrayed before the Gate. Though it was not precisely their fault, their quest had set this all in motion. They should be fighting alongside the others from the start, not leading some dramatic charge at the last minute.

Even after their conversation, he still had a moment of temptation to send Kíli to the archers. However, his brother was well practiced at shooting in melee, and he had to admit, being in a fight where Kíli was present but not by his side would feel too strange.

Before he could air any of his thoughts to Kíli, Reith fluttered up to perch on the battlement between them.

“Your Highness, Thranduil and Dáin send their thanks for the warning. As you can see, they have agreed to coordinate their efforts. They would appreciate knowledge of how you will position your forces.”

“Thank you, Reith. I had planned to join those stationed in front of the Gate, if that is agreeable.”

“I shall pass that along,” and she was gone once more in a flurry of dark feathers.

It was almost surreal watching the sun gleam from the bright armour of the elves and the heavy chain Dáin’s warriors wore; knowing that by the end of the day, it would all look very different.

Seeing the men next to the other warriors, it was obvious that their equipment was patchwork and shoddy at best. Fíli’s first thought was to raid the armoury of Erebor to provide them with something better. Surveying the area once more and considering the timeline the ravens had suggested, he regretfully concluded there was no way to distribute the equipment without risking being out of position when the orcs arrived. The men would have to face the battle with only what they had, and the dwarves would lose the chance to garner some sorely needed goodwill for the negotiations which would inevitably follow.

It was a little hard to believe that he had so quickly fallen into the habit of considering the political ramifications of his actions. It seemed years of lessons from Thorin, Balin, and his mother had taught him well. But at the same time if felt as though he had lost something of himself. Before, he would not have considered the benefit to his own goals when giving aid to another. Fíli supposed that was what being a King meant. At least Kíli stood by his side; he would never entirely lose himself to his role with his stubborn brother to remind him of who he was.

A clanking behind drew his attention to the dwarves filing on to the wall to join them. He nodded in acknowledgement to them all, but the sombre mood did not lend itself to idle conversation. Fíli would speak once all the Company had joined them.

Though if Thorin actually elected to leave the Treasury... He had yet to openly take command in front of his uncle, but it could prove necessary.

“This is not a bad strategy with how little we know about the orcs,” Kíli mused aloud. “I am pleased to see that our forces have mixed to best support each other.”

“Is there anything you would have done differently?” Fíli asked, curious.

Kíli paused to survey the field with an appraising eye. “I might have positioned a few close combat fighters with the archers in case the orcs overrun their position. I know Tauriel can fight close-in as well as at range, but that may not be standard training. But I am sure Thranduil would have accounted for that.

“Otherwise, I would separate the dwarven cavalry to their own position. A charge from high ground would be useful to break any strong orc positions. Overall however, this should be a sound strategy.”

As they had spoken, the remainder of the Company had joined them, with one notable exception. Fíli met Balin’s eyes, wordlessly asking after Thorin. The advisor shook his head in the negative. Evidently not even the threat of Azog was enough to dislodge his uncle from the gold.

So – it was time. Fíli took a deep breath before turning to fully face the gathered Company, pulling on the mantle of the Crown Prince, Kíli standing at his shoulder supportively. “I thank you all for joining me. I know this is not what any of us had expected when we first pledged to reclaim our homeland. You have all proven your loyalty and courage time after time, but I must ask you to stand with me once more.

“Azog has pursued us for much of our journey, and at the last, he has brought an army against us. We must stand together with our allies,” the mention of allies provoked some restive shuffling, but no one spoke, “to defend our home. We will prove once more that the line of Durin will not be so easily broken! We will avenge those who fell in the wars that took place in darkness under the Malasul’abbad![4] We will avenge the loss of our King at Azanulbizar!

“Will you stand with me? Will you fight by my side?”

The answering roar of approval buoyed Fíli and sent battlefire racing through his veins. With dwarves like this fighting with him, how could they fail? They had faced so many dangers already; he would not allow their story to end here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Warmaster; lit. Master of War
> 
> [2] Grey Mountains
> 
> [3] love
> 
> [4] Misty Mountains


	16. Thunder upon the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle is joined at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orcish is denoted by [....] parentheses. I didn't feel like translating things into Black Speech as well as Khuzdul XD

The first sign of Azog’s forces came when the horizon was blotted out by the dark wings of thousands of bats. Hulking, shuffling forms followed in their wake, flanked by snarling wargs. After all the fear and tension leading up to this moment, Fíli felt nothing but anticipation for the fight. It was a familiar motion: to draw his swords and spin them once to settle his grip, baring his teeth in a defiant snarl of his own. He was on solid ground for the first time in days; blades in hand and Kíli at his side, he knew he was prepared for the fight to come.

Fíli had expected that Azog might try for strategic positioning in response to their own, but as soon as he saw the brothers in the vanguard, the pale orc smiled wickedly and shouted his army into a charge. Azog watched as the lesser orcs streamed past him towards the thin line of dwarves standing before the mountain, the Company divided into twos and threes among those from the Iron Hills. Evidently he would wait for the others to wear them down before engaging the brothers himself.

The first line of dwarves standing before the princes set their shields to the rocky ground and braced for impact. Already the charge was faltering as the archers on the mountain’s spurs chose their targets, the orcs and wargs stumbling over the corpses of their fellows. Beside Fíli, the familiar creak and thrum of Kíli’s bow bringing down target after target served to draw him further into the centred stillness he felt before a fight, each arrow a countdown.

Nock, draw, release.

Nock, draw, release.

Nock, draw, release.

Kíli managed one final arrow before the thundering crash of the orcish charge collided with the dwarven shieldwall, marking as well Fíli’s last fully coherent memory before the battle splintered into a chaos of impressions and moments of significance.

He was engaged before the reverberations of that first clash died away, the dwarven warrior in front of him spinning to the ground even as Fíli stepped forward and beheaded the orc who sent him there. No sooner was one dispatched than three more took their place, leaving Fíli no time for thought. All he could do was rely on motions drilled into him beyond conscious memory, years upon years of wielding his swords driving his actions.

Already the footing was treacherous, spilled blood rendering stone slick and softening frozen earth into mud. Perhaps some of his own blood had even joined it, but the adrenaline allowed minor injuries to pass unmarked.

Even through the haze of battle, the one thing he never lost track of was Kíli. The archer whirled and ducked and roared at his back, alternating between bow and sword with facility and trusting Fíli would cover him in the brief moments of transition. Despite the thick crush of orcs which soon had their small force divided, it was as though an invisible tether held them linked, drawing them back whenever it drew taut. Over the roar of battle, Fíli could hear him laughing from sheer exhilaration, the madness which came from facing an overwhelming foe and spitting in the face of death.

Fíli found himself laughing as well at the sheer absurdity of the bats which flurried around their heads. The living cloud was more a nuisance than a threat so long as he concentrated more on the orcs and wargs and not the minor scratches which were all the bats could manage to inflict.

They became less of a matter for mirth when they lifted the first elf from the ground. The leather armour which some few of their company wore left them light enough that a swarm of bats could carry them away. However the dwarves were quick to rally to their aid: after Kíli had shot the second unfortunate free the elves found themselves flanked by dwarves, serving as anchors and swatting the bats from the air.

When the rest of their forces joined the fray, blocking the enemy on the plateau, Fíli knew only by the alteration of the hum of battle. Their foe no longer seemed so confident of their victory, though always Azog lurked at the fringes of his vision. The white orc easily repelled all who approached with claw and flanged mace, his enormous warg savaging the fallen.

Though Fíli wished to engage him, the press of enemies between was far too thick for the moment. They would not stand a chance, fighting through on their own. Tauriel joined them for a time, along with another female elf who nodded to Kíli in recognition, and two males. Fíli was amused to note that one was the elf who had disarmed him in Mirkwood. He grinned to himself at the memory of the guard’s exasperation as he removed dagger after dagger. Before he could propose a joint effort to bring down the orc leader, his hopes were disappointed when the tide of battle swept them apart once more, and Fíli was forced to focus simply on defending himself and Kíli.

Like a well-oiled set of gears, he and Kíli moved fluidly around each other. They had been fighting side by side in skirmishes since Fíli had hit his thirties, and no longer even needed to speak to know what the other would do. Their hard fought expertise eventually bought them a moment of breathing room. Fíli had just turned what he could spare of his attention to the problem of Azog when the orc threw his head back and roared.

[ **BOLG!** ] The orc’s cry rang out over the battlefield, turning heads from both sides.

The swordsman felt his gut clench when he recalled that Reith had mentioned _another_ orc riding at Azog’s side, one seamed with metal...

Little happened to break the hush which had settled over the field with Azog’s call for some time, and Fíli almost dared to hope that nothing would, but he knew well how battle distorted such perceptions. So as the rain of arrows from the western spur faltered and faded, he was sorrowful but unsurprised.

“Fíli!” Kíli cried, evidently with a clearer line of sight. “Another group of orcs is overrunning that position.”

The swordsman looked around frantically, Kíli shifting to cover him as he searched the battlefield for Dáin. Fortunately they had not been the only ones to see the second incursion, as moments later the clarion call of a horn rang out over the battlefield. The inbatharâg’ezgh [1] and their riders followed its command, trampling orcs and wargs alike as they rode to reinforce the archers, yet somehow nimble enough to dodge their allies.

“Kíli,” the blond said quietly, moving to stand next to his brother in the lull created by the cavalry’s passage, “we must bring Azog down. The orcs will lose any cohesion without their leaders.”

“I know. I’ll take his warg from a distance, if I can. I should not like to close with _that_ beast.”

Further discussion unnecessary, the brothers began moving towards the massive, scarred orc, every step a battle in itself. Azog watched with a wicked grin as they struggled through the hoard of enemies, waiting. He would not take one step closer, pleased to see them tire themselves. Fíli snarled defiance, determined that he would not concede Azog the advantage.

Kíli gathered arrows as he went, enough that when they got into range, his bowstring sang. Arrow after arrow thudded into the great white warg: throat, eye, chest, side. He was not taking any chances, and Azog’s smirk twisted into fury as his warg died with a whimper, striding forward with his complete focus on the archer. Kíli was the one grinning now, taunting Azog with his smile as he emptied the scant remaining arrows in his quiver into the orc’s legs to slow him.

Indeed, it appeared to be working. As Fíli circled around the orc, he could see Azog’s stride falter under the line of arrows that found every gap in his armour.  It was less reassuring when the orc snapped all the shafts with a contemptuous sweep of his arm, but it served to hold his attention on Kíli. Even as Azog embedded his mace into the mud because Kíli danced out of the way, the swordsman darted in and buried his swords into the orc’s broad back just below his armour.

What he hadn’t counted on was the orc’s resilience. Azog roared and spun and the next thing Fíli knew, Azog’s claw screeched across his armour and sent him flying. He landed five feet away, temporarily breathless, and realized that his swords had remained embedded. His gasping inhalation gained him a lungful of air thick with the stench of mud, blood, and death.

[Where is Thorin unda Thráin? Or has he sent you whelps to fight in his place?] Azog rasped. Hearing the Black Speech made Fíli’s skin crawl, but he was glad Thorin had insisted he learn. Six long years of war had well taught the dwarves the value of being able to understand the words of their foes.

“ _Kakhfar!_ ”[2] Fíli cursed under his breath as he struggled to his feet. Kíli was harrying Azog once more, buying time for him to draw one of his daggers as he snuck closer to the orc. He was so focussed on grasping the hilt of one sword without alerting Azog that he missed when Kíli slipped in the mud, catching himself on one knee before he could stumble farther. With his hands down to stabilize him, he was too slow to block the next blow.

Kíli screamed in pain and fury as Azog’s mace slammed his left arm into the ground. Even over his cry, Fíli could hear the sick snap of bone.

[Not so clever now, little archer,] the pale orc grinned. He raised the mace for a second blow only to cry out himself as Fíli twisted the blades in his back and yanked them free. This time he was prepared for Azog’s quick spin, and ducked under to carve a deep furrow into the orc’s thigh. A thin whistle alerted him in time to roll away, only narrowly avoiding the blow which impacted where he had been seconds before.

Keeping a cautious eye on the orc, he took a moment to check on Kíli’s condition. Though his brother was pale, it relieved him to see the archer already back on his feet. The archer’s vambrace had deformed under the force of the strike, but for the time being, it would serve to brace the broken bone.

Fíli’s assessment occupied the brief place before he was once again ducking a wild swing of the mace, darting in to land another blow as it whistled overhead. This time, Azog allowed his momentum to spin him on the slick footing, easily knocking the sword from Kíli’s unprepared hand with his claw. The quick duck to retrieve his blade left his back exposed; an error which Azog was pleased to punish. When Azog’s mace collided squarely with his back it was only Kíli’s quick roll forwards which saved him from a broken spine.

So delighted was he with the potential for revenge on the slayer of his warg was he, Azog was taken by surprise when Kíli regained his feet with a dagger in hand. The archer’s aim sent it thudding home in the small gap at the collar of his armour, and his shock allowed Kíli time to reclaim his sword and bury it deep between the hinges of Azog’s chestplate.

The orc staggered, but still refused to fall. Crazed with pain and anger, he spun to face Fíli once more and struck wildly. He dodged the mace, but Azog’s claw carved a line of fire through Fíli’s left brow all the way to his ear and sent his helm spinning off, lost in the crush of bodies. He could only spare a second to be grateful the blood wasn’t dripping into his eye. In the next, he was dodging again.

Azog’s wounds were slowing him at last. The heavy blow aimed at Fíli had buried the mace deep in the mud, and he groaned in pain as he strained to lift it. Before he could abandon it as lost, Kíli darted in from the side and severed his arm at the elbow.

At last, the massive orc fell to his knees.

Kíli stood by his shoulder as Fíli looked at the Defiler. It gave him a grim sense of victory to know that this time, there was no hole for him to crawl into in retreat.

“Your quest to end the line of Durin ends today. You have taken enough from my family.”

His words provoked a final attack from the orc leader, but he found it strangely easy to hold off Azog’s wicked claw with a single blade. The other sliced out in a clean arc and cleaved his head from his body, just as Azog had done to Thrór.

A hush fell over the battlefield nearby with Azog’s death, orcs and wargs backing cautiously away from the pair who had managed it. Some few simply turned and fled. Fíli scarcely noticed, aside from the opportunity it granted to look Kíli over.

“Nadad, are you...alright?” He dropped a sword to cup Kíli’s pale face gently. “How injured are you?”

Kíli nuzzled into the hand briefly before Fíli allowed it to drop, smears of blood and dirt marking where it had been. “I can keep fighting; the arm is the worst of it.” He looked down at it ruefully, “I will not be holding a bow for some time, however.” His left hand brushed softly over Fíli’s brow. “And you?”

It was Fíli’s turn to smile. “It looks worse than it is; you know how head wounds bleed.” He paused for a moment, “...can I not convince you to go to the healers?”

In the middle of the battlefield, smeared with gore and mud, Kíli still reached out and drew Fíli into a deep kiss. “I am sure, Fí. I will not leave you to fight alone.”

Left breathless by the tender kiss, Fíli could only nod. He wanted more, which was reason enough to turn away and scoop up his sword. It was not the time for tenderness.

“I can scarcely believe he’s dead,” Kíli said quietly, shifting beside him to look down at Azog’s corpse.

“Me neither, Kí.” Azog had been a villain in the grand tales of battle they had grown up hearing, slain by the hero Thorin in just vengeance. It was surreal to discover that not only had the monster survived, but he had been the one newly cast in the role of ‘hero’. Fíli would have tried to articulate some of his confusion, but a change in the roar of battle around them meant they were out of time.

The still-cleared space around them allowed Fíli to sight the reason for the enemies’ renewed confidence. Bolg pushed his way forwards, down from the mountain spur where the second attack had come. The rest of his forces had fallen or fled, but the orc leader remained undaunted.

Fíli _wanted_ to see what Bolg would do next, but the press of orcs closed in around them once more, wargs snarling but reluctant to close. The hesitation of their foes was a relief; but with Kíli’s arm broken, they quickly came to an unspoken agreement to fall back to the nearest group of allies. Fíli was doing his best to compensate for the archer’s weakened side, but it had already been a long day fighting.

They had nearly made it to a small knot of dwarves and men when another lull in the battle swirled around them. The swordsman looked up and felt his heart sink into his boots. Bolg had spotted him and Kíli and was charging towards them, a horde snarling in his wake. The fighters they had been working towards were swarmed under. The rush only halted when Bolg snarled out a sharp command before they could attack the brothers.

[I will enjoy killing you, Durin scum,] Bolg grinned. [I will finish what my sire began, and end your filthy line for good. Then none will be able to contest my rule, from Gundabad to Moria.]

Fíli settled into a solid guard stance, though he could feel the edge of exhaustion held at bay only by adrenaline. Some part of him was incredulous as to the reason these orcs had sworn to end his family, the rest snarling in protective fury. How _dare_ they lay claim to Durin’s halls and the sacred place where their Maker had laid him to slumber?

“Azog was convinced of the same, and yet he is gone and here we stand.”

[Not for long.] Bolg closed the distance in a rush, the brothers easily evading his first swing and separating to flank him at right angles. They circled warily, Fíli scanning for vulnerabilities between the plates grafted to the orc.

Bolg was the first to lose patience, and blocking his heavy swing sent reverberations along Fíli’s very _bones_. Just as with Azog, matching blows would have to be a last resort. And just as with Azog, the brothers did their best to keep him swinging, hoping the heavy club would wear him down and inflicting what damage they could. All too often, their rushed strikes met jagged plates instead of flesh.

Circling for a better angle, Kíli’s wounded leg made him stumble. Only for a second, but it was enough. Fíli’s attention was caught by his brother’s lurching movement, sending all his fears rushing to the forefront of his tired mind. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back and struggling for a full breath.

“FÍLI!” and his heart ached to hear the panic in his brother’s voice as Kíli darted to shield him from the next blow of Bolg’s bladed club. From somewhere on the battlefield, he thought he heard his uncle echo Kíli’s cry, but Thorin had made his priorities clear and they did not include Fíli.

He could not leave Kíli to fight on his own, not against an opponent such as Bolg. Fíli forced himself to struggle to his feet in spite of the iron band strangling his chest. As he did so, it became clear that the reason for his breathing difficulties came from the deep indentation Bolg’s weapon had driven into the side of his chestplate.

Kíli was fighting well, using his size and agility to force Bolg to make sweeping attacks which never quite landed, but it could not last. Already he was flagging. Fíli tried to force his battered body forward to intercept an attack it was clear Kíli would not dodge in time, but each step was agony. He could only watch helplessly as Bolg clouted Kíli in the head and bent his stunned brother back over his knee, club poised to drive the pointed hilt through his chest.

“NO! KÍLI!” Fíli stretched his hand out helplessly.

Bolg looked up to bare his rotting teeth at Fíli, gloating at his fear and pain. Kíli took advantage of his momentary distraction to drive another hidden dagger into the wrist pinning him and roll, hold never as secure as the orc had confidently assumed. Furious, Bolg drew back to kick the archer, slower to regain his feet in the thick mud.

To Fíli’s shock, _Thorin_ charged into Bolg and forced him off balance. Fíli could only gape as his uncle engaged the massive orc, driving him back with fierce blows.

“Not – MY – **SISTER-SONS!** ” he gritted out between attacks.

Bolg laughed as he easily parried Thorin’s sword, retreating only to draw him further from the brothers. [So you have come after all, Thorin Oakenshield.]

At the swordsman’s side, Kíli almost vibrated in place. His anxious gaze told Fíli he was unsure whether to stay to help his injured brother or defend his uncle.

The orc leader’s next words made the decision for him. [They are your whelps then? I will make you watch while I cut down the dark one and tear the other’s heart from his chest. Then I will end your wretched line for good.]

Thorin overextended into a lunge, reason consumed by fury. “You will not _touch_ them, filth.”

Kíli sprinted to interpose himself between Bolg and Thorin, purchasing for their uncle a few moments to recover himself. Fíli pushed himself to move faster even as his breath came in shallow pants. Thorin was fighting recklessly and had not thought to put on armour when he rushed to the battlefield. In the brief moment when their eyes had met, Fíli had seen why. Something had brought him back to himself, and now his actions were fuelled by rage and grief and guilt. Once more, the brothers would have to save him from himself.

As he and Kíli moved to flank Thorin, Fíli swore he could hear Bilbo’s thin voice calling out. Something about ‘eagles’. He could not spare more attention from his uncle, who seemed to have forgotten all caution. As he recklessly threw himself into the fight, the brothers were forced into blocking Bolg’s strikes before they could connect with the un-armoured King. And they were weakening.

At last Thorin succeeded in getting under Bolg’s guard, carving a deep wound below his ribs before the orc backhanded him away with a bellow. Distracted by the blood pouring from a gash left by the dagger still embedded in Bolg’s wrist, Fíli and Kíli were both stunned with quick blows in succession.

With his sister-sons reeling, Thorin’s fury only strengthened. Ignoring the blood streaming into one eye, he dashed forward once more. Fíli winced to see that his uncle did not even have his sword in a guard position, entirely focussed on driving it through the orc.

It was over between one heartbeat and the next. When Thorin’s sword lodged between pieces of the orc’s embedded armour, Bolg almost casually drove his elbow down and shattered the blade. One hand lashed out to grab Thorin by the throat as the other raised his mace.

[Watch,] Bolg chuckled, dragging Thorin towards Fíli.

The swordsman, still dazed from the blow to the head and struggling to breathe, realized what was about to happen, but too late. The next moments were a blur of shouts and movement he could not quite follow. It resolved only when he landed on his back with a thud, Thorin collapsing onto his chest. Through eyes blurred by reflexive tears, Fíli saw Thorin smile once more like the uncle he remembered from childhood.

“Thorin!” Kíli cried. The clash of metal made it clear he was guarding their fallen forms.

Fíli echoed him much more quietly, numb with shock. Even as Thorin choked on a mouthful of his own blood, it didn’t seem real. The roar of the battlefield faded to the background as his world narrowed to his uncle’s sorrowful face.

“Thorin, no, please,” Fíli sobbed quietly. “It cannot end like this.” So very cautiously he helped Thorin roll onto his back. He wished he could call for healers, but knew it was too late for that. Bolg’s bladed club had shredded Thorin’s back, severing his spine and puncturing his lungs. Instead, he forced himself to his knees beside the King he had been proud to follow, gently brushing Thorin’s hair from his face.

Thorin caught his hand. “E sarg-anmîn-el menu.[3] Tell – Bil-bo I - am sor-ry. Tell...” Thorin trailed off as his eyes met his sister-son’s for the final time.

Fíli regretted the lost chance to say everything he wished to his uncle, about how he had only ever wanted him to be proud, to apologize for going against his orders, to thank him for everything he had taught him. But Bolg was still there, laughing at the death of another of their line.

Fíli slowly hauled himself to his feet and swore it would end that day; that his family would never again be hunted. He moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Kíli, guarding Thorin’s last breaths. Bolg would **not** be given the opportunity to desecrate their uncle.

As one they engaged the giant orc. Kíli wordlessly took the lead, his broken arm less of a hindrance than Fíli’s ribs. The archer feinted to his left, locking his blade in the serrations of Bolg’s weapon so Fíli could drive his swords deeper into the wound Thorin had made.

Despite his resolution and their combined efforts, Fíli soon began to fear they would only be able to bring Bolg down alongside them. Black spots encroached into his vision, shallow breaths all he could manage with his ribs in agony. He was at last forced to abandon his right blade entirely, muscles _screaming_ at him every time he attempted to raise his arm. Kíli was less battered, but he was flagging as well, struggling to compensate for Fíli.

When a fierce roar sounded off to the side, Fíli discounted it as another vagary of the fight, concentrating hard to lift his numbed arm in order to parry yet another heavy blow while Kíli circled, searching for a vulnerability. So it came as an utter shock to more than just Bolg when an absolutely monstrous bear crashed into their foe like an avalanche.

The bear stood over Bolg’s stunned form and bellowed. The sound froze Fíli’s blood in his veins, and he remained stock still as the great head turned to look over him and Kíli. He could only hope it would not turn on them next. But at the same time, there was a nagging familiarity about the beast.

“...Beorn?” he ventured hesitantly.

The great bear nodded once before turning back to the orc. And only just in time, as Bolg launched himself back to his feet and swung his club straight at Beorn’s head. The bear dodged with an agility Fíli would not have expected, swiping at the orc with a paw.

The two enormous combatants fought back and forth for a time, neither gaining the upper hand. Beorn was a skilled fighter, but without the element of surprise he was having difficulty with the reach granted by the club.

Catching Kíli’s eye, the swordsman jerked his head for them to circle. Kíli stabbed for the back of Bolg’s knee as Fíli set himself. When the orc spun around, he tangled his sword in the protrusions in the club. Despite his weakened body _screaming_ at him, he braced and held.

Beorn took advantage of the opportunity Fíli’s risk had created and launched his bulk onto the orc’s back, biting deep into his spine. Bolg took one step, two, lifting his club for another blow before it slipped from nerveless fingers. The great bear shook him once before discarding his corpse, bellowing his victory to the enemy. The tight ring which had drawn in to watch the fight shrank back in fear.

With Bolg’s defeat, Fíli could no longer force away the darkness that threatened at the edges of his vision. He collapsed with a clatter as he gasped frantically for breath.

“FÍLI!” Kíli skidded to his side through the mud, fingers scrambling madly for the latches of his chestplate. The blond dazedly worried that Kíli had left his back exposed to attack, but could not summon the breath to protest.

The rush of air into his starved lungs when Kíli at last pried his armour off was too much for him, and the last thing Fíli saw before his world went black was his brother’s worried face and Beorn standing guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] war goats
> 
> [2] Shit!; lit. supreme excrement
> 
> [3] I am so proud of you both.


	17. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has discussion of injuries and healing methods. The herbs were researched as traditional healing methods, but please don't attempt to use them if you don't know exactly what you're doing. Some can be toxic.

Fíli slowly drifted back into consciousness on waves of sensation until the pain overwhelmed the muzziness provided by Óin’s concoctions, blinking slowly until he realized that he was staring up at the roof of a tent. Dazedly, he glanced around to take stock of his surroundings. He was lying in a bed covered in plush furs, and the rest of the tent’s furnishings appeared equally rich. Thick tapestries hung over the door to prevent drafts in the cold mountain air and the table next to his cot was elegantly carved from dark wood.

When Fíli looked to his left, he was relieved to see Kíli in another cot by his side. From just a quick glance he could tell that his brother was swathed in bandages. Evidently he had been more injured than Fíli had realized, unless things had gone badly wrong after he had lost consciousness. The stillness with which he laid told Fíli that he had also been given something by Óin, something which he would welcome a second dose of himself.

Fully awake, he was painfully aware of his ribs, along with every other strain, bruise, and cut which had been so easy to ignore during the fight. The sting and itch of his healing wounds urged him to scratch, and it was a true effort of will to refrain. And once again his breath was coming short from the ache of cracked, if not broken, ribs. Only just awakened, he already longed to go back to the warm oblivion promised by sleep.

“Óin,” his voice emerged as a dull croak. He tried again, but managed even less. Without the ability to alert anyone that he was awake, Fíli resigned himself to lying back and studying the fabric above.

Fortunately, it did not take long for Óin to push the tapestries aside and stride into the tent. The Company’s apothecary looked startled to see Fíli awake before a broad grin stretched across his face. “Ah, lad, it is good to see you alert.”

Fíli’s attempt to respond wrung painful coughs from him until he was aware of little else, leaving him sobbing for breath when they subsided.

“There lad, breathe. Breathe with me,” Óin’s calm voice coached him.

The blond followed his example until the little hitches in his own evened out and at last felt as close to normal as his breathing had been since Bolg’s weapon collided with his chest.

Once he had it under control, Óin cautiously supported Fíli’s head and brought a cup of water to his cracked lips. It had to be refilled twice before he was done quenching his thirst, particularly with as much water spilling over his chin as he managed to gulp down greedily.

“Thank you,” his words emerged hoarse but clear. Fíli had dozens of questions he wanted to ask, but another entry into the tent disrupted that line of thought.

“Lord Elrond?” Fíli blinked at the tall elf, wondering if he had woken after all.

Elrond gracefully inclined his head to Fíli, but turned his attention to Óin first. “The last of the critically injured have been seen. Most are stable at the least, though a few still require watchful care. The healers from the Woodland Realm and the Iron Hills stand ready, and so I thought to turn my attention to other patients.”

“We are grateful for it,” Óin replied, respectfully for him. He was not quite bellowing. “Without your timely arrival, the toll of this battle would surely have been greater.”

Despite knowing how unlikely a rescue had been, Fíli could not suppress a wild flare of hope. “Thorin?”

“Ah,” Elrond turned then to face the heir; the elf’s sorrowful face told him what he already knew to be true. “I am sorry. Even had I treated him the moment he was struck down, Thorin’s injury was too severe.”

Fíli closed his eyes, allowing himself only a moment to mourn the loss of his uncle, teacher, and King. True grief would have to wait until he could find privacy with none to witness save Kíli. Rather than dwell on it and risk breaking down, Fíli asked, “and the rest of the Company?” He could already see the edges of crisp bandaging under Óin’s coat and a splinted finger on his left hand.

Óin shook his head in fond exasperation. “Dwalin took a nasty warg bite to the thigh, but the daft bugger is back on his feet already. Insisted on standing guard outside this tent as a matter of fact.

“Bilbo caused us no little worry. He took a hard knock to the head and we only found him an hour ago. One of the men from Esgaroth was searching that quarter of the field and tripped over him. He’ll be right soon enough.” His face sobered, “Bifur kept to his word to give that axe in his skull back to an orc. He fell unconscious after the battle and has yet to wake.”

“I believe his chances are good,” Elrond interjected soothingly.

“Aside from Bifur, Ori got the worst of it. He’s lost his right arm below the elbow, but he says he’s just happy it wasn’t his writing hand. The rest got knocked about some, broken bones, cuts, bites; but they’ll all recover.”

“And Kíli?”

“He’s still under from the pain tonic I gave him. He and Beorn stood guard over you and Thorin until the orcs were routed, so he was completely exhausted by the time I saw him. Aside from the injuries you’re no doubt aware of, he caught a stray arrow in the other leg. Made some sort of joke about being ‘symmetrical now’,” Óin snorted.

Fíli heaved a sigh that nothing serious had happened to Kíli when he was unable to watch his back. “I want to see them. I – I need to thank them for following me, and see for myself they are well.” He was relieved to hear they had all survived, knew that Bifur would be immensely pleased to have returned the axe which had plagued him since Gundabad’s liberation, whatever the outcome was. But he _had_ to see them all for himself, reassurance that he had not lost more of his family in that nightmarish fight.

A scoff answered him. “You’re not going anywhere for a few days, lad. Kíli showed me how deep the dent was in the chestplate he had to peel off of you. You’re staying flat on your back until those ribs start to knit and we’re sure you’re not going to start bleeding into your lungs.”

The blond screwed up his face at the pronouncement, but learned a long time ago that arguing with the healer only resulted in more days of bed rest.

Elrond coughed lightly, drawing both of their attention. “I am here to see if I can speed the process a little. As heir to the throne, you will be needed.” He hesitated for a moment, but elected to continue, “there are tensions building once more between the three peoples, and from what I have been told, you and your brother are the ones who stand the best chance of forging an alliance.”

 _Heir_. One simple word was enough to make Fíli’s breathing hitch once more, though his face must not betray his conflict. He had dreaded that very thing during Thorin’s madness, and it seemed that now the burden of Kingship was not to be a temporary thing, lifted when Thorin returned to himself. The weight of the mountain and her people settled on to his shoulders, though he was not sure he was prepared to bear it. He _ached_ to reach out for Kíli. For him to support Fíli in holding strong under the weight, but his brother slumbered on.

And so he clung to his composure, nodding regally to Elrond. “I would be grateful for your aid. I have no wish to return to the animosity from before the orcs were spotted.” He pushed back the heavy furs to bare his ribs and for the first time realized he had been stripped down to his smalls. It was strange to look down and see bandages and bruising in places he had not realized he was injured.

Fíli groaned as with Óin’s help, Elrond carefully lifted him into a seated position so they could unwind the bandaging around his torso.

“I apologize, Master Fíli. It will be easier to judge how damaged your ribs are if you have had nothing to dull the pain, so you can inform me if I am pushing too hard. I will provide you with something as soon as that is done.”

“I understand,” Fíli responded, though his voice was tight with pain. It became easier to bear once he was laid back down, at least until Elrond began to gently prod the area. Lacking the focus and adrenaline from the battle, the blond found himself biting back a scream. Fortunately, the elf lord’s examination was over quickly.

Elrond lifted his hands with a smile. “The resilience of dwarves never ceases to amaze me. Five ribs are cracked and badly bruised, but they bent under pressure rather than broke.” He gestured to Óin who immediately handed Fíli a cup.

Accepting it with a nod, Fíli could tell from the familiar minty scent that it was Óin’s usual catnip and skullcap tonic for pain. Contrary to his previous desire, he hoped that the valerian had been omitted from this dose; he was not yet ready to sleep. Not when he was still curious about how Elrond had come to be at the mountain. With a slight grimace at the flavour, he downed the cup and settled back to wait for it to take effect.

The blond jumped a little when Elrond’s hands returned to smooth a cool, thick paste over his ribs. He exhaled on a hiss at the tingling burn of the herbs.

But Elrond’s attention was not on his reaction.

“What do you use in your poultice?” Óin inquired, always prepared to exchange techniques with another healer.

The elf lord answered absently, most of his focus on the application. “I mashed together comfrey, marshmallow root, wormwood, and lobelia for his cracked ribs. The arnica, dandelion root, and horse chestnut will take care of the bruising. With my power to speed them, the ribs and bruising should heal rapidly.”

Fíli opened his mouth to ask a question, but Elrond cut him off.

“Yes, Master Fíli, that means you will be back on your feet within the week. And I will be applying the same treatments to your brother once I have completed yours.”

Once again he was lifted gently, breathing a sigh of relief that the pain tonic had begun to take effect. Óin put a thick pad of linen over the poultice before he and Elrond wrapped Fíli’s ribs once more.

When they moved on to treating his other wounds, packing them with yarrow, comfrey root, and lavender oil, Fíli found himself wishing he could fall asleep after all. Rather than an opportunity to ask Elrond about his presence, Óin and he were too distracted by discussing healing methods to pay attention to Fíli beyond his injuries. He drifted with the hum of conversation. The volume Óin habitually spoke with was familiar enough to be soothing, though it certainly had not been at the beginning of their journey.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur for Fíli. Though Óin would not allow him to leave his bed, he nevertheless found himself making decisions as heir. The steady stream of visitors seeking arbitration, to provide him with updates, or just to visit left him with no real opportunity to process what had passed. His grief for Thorin and fears about his new role were forced to late hours of the night after everyone else had retired. Kíli would carefully lever himself out of bed to lie next to Fíli, clinging to his hand as they both allowed themselves the refuge of tears. These moments passed in silence aside from their hitching breaths, with the unspoken understanding that words would have to wait for more privacy than a tent.

In those days, Dáin and Balin were the most common visitors outside of the healers. There were many things to settle regarding the disposition of Dáin’s warriors, funereal preparations, and settling alliances between the three disparate peoples. But that was not to say they were the only ones who populated the tent.

One of Fíli’s first visitors had been Bard. It seemed the battle had broken the last vestige of goldsickness for him as well as Thorin, and he wished to apologize. Part of his apology to Kíli had Fíli clenching his fists in fury, wondering how the humble bargeman they had met had _dared_ to threaten to hold Kíli hostage. His practiced composure along with the fact that he was unable to even sit up in the cot was all that prevented him from acting on that fury, a fact he was thankful for after a few moments of reflection.

Indeed, the man was genuinely contrite. He readily agreed to new negotiations for the return of Dale’s inheritance and admitted that his demands had been hasty; made under the influence of Smaug’s thrall. However, he asked that Fíli speak to Dáin about the hostility his people were facing from the dwarves of the Iron Hills.

It seemed that Dáin’s folk only had Thorin’s version of events to judge by, and between that and the common mistrust between differing peoples, tensions were once again building. Fíli was happy to speak to Dáin on their behalf. In turn, Bard agreed to give the Arkenstone back to Fíli as a sign of good faith, a gesture which would go a long way to placating Dáin and his army.

The heir could hardly stand to touch the gem however. Not with all that had been borne of Thorin’s desire for it. He would have to speak to Kíli about an appropriate disposition. It certainly would not receive pride of place above his throne as it had in Thrór’s time.

The other agreement which Fíli reached with Bard that day was in regards to temporary housing for his people. The dispossessed of Laketown would stay in Erebor for the winter, with the condition that they aid in clearing the mountain and everyday tasks alongside the dwarves. Once the caravans of those dwarves who chose to return to Erebor from the Ered Luin arrived in spring, dwarven stone masons would join in the reconstruction of Dale.

Fíli found himself enjoying his conversation with the dour man now that the situation was not so dire. When Dáin arrived to notify Fíli that Dís had sent a response by raven, he took advantage of having them both present to explain the situation. He could see how necessary it was by Dáin’s look of mistrust upon spotting the man.

“Thank you for bringing me this message, Lord Dáin. While you are here, I feel it is important to clarify the events since our arrival in Erebor.”

Attention still primarily on Bard, Dáin bowed to Fíli. “You’re welcome, my Prince. ...It was my understanding that the men and elves had besieged Erebor?” He sounded hesitant at least, so perhaps it would not be too difficult to alter his perception.

Still, Fíli sighed. He felt a trifle ridiculous undertaking such a conversation flat on his back, but it could not be helped. “I understand that Thorin’s letter was in all likelihood quite inflammatory.” He hesitated, unsure if what he was about to admit was the best course of action. “...Our people do not readily speak of the affliction, but I feel that what occurred here was too far-reaching to conceal. Thorin, and most of the Company along with those who came to besiege us, were afflicted with goldsickness to varying degrees.”

Dáin’s indrawn breath betrayed his shock.

“Kíli managed to gain entry to the camp of men and elves while we were under siege, and spoke to Gandalf. He confirmed both how widespread the malady was, and explained how it came to be.” Fíli deferred to Kíli to pass on what Gandalf had told him.

Dáin’s face became grave, hearing why goldsickness plagued the line of Durin from time to time. Bard however, hearing the full story for the first time, was thoughtful. Fíli only hoped that he had not made a miscalculation in sharing the truth.

“The battle seems to have been enough to have broken its influence. I have hope that it will not return, but Gandalf has agreed to seek a method through which the curse on the treasure may be dispelled permanently.” The heir looked both Bard and Dáin in the eyes for long moments. “I have shared this information in good faith, because I wish to build trust between our peoples. That being said, I would ask that you not share the full truth with all of your folk. Let it be known that Smaug cursed his hoard and the Grey Wizard will break it. Durin’s ring has been lost for many years and need not be part of the tale.”

Both leaders nodded in agreement, knowing the damage that information shared carelessly could cause. Fíli would have to make a point of informing the Company of the story to be shared.

“And the claims that Thranduil and Bard placed against the treasure?” Dáin asked.

“I was speaking with Bard regarding that very matter before your entrance. The excessive demands were a result of the treasure’s thrall. As such, we have agreed to start negotiations anew, but it seems fair to separate out the inheritance of Dale to return it to its people. We have also discussed more practical means of aid between us.” Fíli nodded to Bard as he raised the Arkenstone, “and this has already been returned, no longer needed as a bargaining chip.

“As for Thranduil, the only claim he laid was to a particular necklace which was an heirloom of his house. Kíli had returned it as part of his envoy, seeking passage through their camp for us so that we could speak to you. The Elvenking has not asked for anything else, though if there is any treasure of the elves within Erebor, I will be happy to return it. I would start anew with both elves and men, with no debts between allies.”

Dáin nodded, regarding the young heir in a considering manner. “I will inform my warriors that there is no more cause for conflict. Though we’re always ready for a fight, I admit that I’m relieved not to have to go straight into another battle.” He paused, surveying both Fíli and Kíli where they lay. “I will confess, you are not what I was expecting from Thorin’s heirs. It’s been a long time since I last saw you lads. You’ve grown well, and perhaps you have the kind of leadership we need here.”

Fíli valiantly suppressed a pleased flush. It was particularly good to hear, as the vote of confidence suggested that Dáin would not challenge his inheritance. Though he did not want the role, Fíli felt it would be a disservice to Thorin not to rule in his place.

Dáin bowed once more, “your Majesty.” He was just turning to leave when Kíli spoke for the first time.

“Perhaps now that is settled, we should have a more obvious demonstration that the alliance continues?” he suggested. “Laketown may still have usable supplies buried, and by this time the fires should have long gone cool enough to venture into what remains. A joint salvage party could retrieve items that would be vital for this winter.”

Bard lit up with the suggestion. It was likely that many of his people had possessions they wished an attempt to retrieve.

Kíli continued, “Bard, would you be willing to speak to Thranduil about adding a few of his people to the effort? Aside from a further show of unity, the elves may be able to reach more structurally unsound portions of the city. I would also suggest you bring a few members of the Company. Bofur is good at setting people at their ease, and Nori is skilled at finding caches that others might miss.”

The blond chuckled to himself at the blithe way Kíli skimmed past Nori’s disreputable reasons for those skills. His brother was looking to become quite the diplomat.

In short order, Dáin and Bard left the tent. The animosity and tension between them had been dispelled entirely, and they spoke enthusiastically about safety precautions and what they could expect to find. The last comment Fíli heard from Dáin was something about trying to turn Smaug’s hide into armour, if it could be salvaged.

That left Fíli and Kíli alone, though he knew it would not last long. So he contented himself with a single glance of rebuke to his brother for not sharing the full story of what had transpired on his mission; though he knew why Kíli had neglected to mention Bard’s threat.

Kíli answered with a sheepish smile and a shrug. They could speak more of it later. Fíli turned his attention to the scroll in its waxed paper tube.

_Thorin, I am pleased to hear of your safe arrival at the mountain and the fall of Smaug. It figures that the elves would turn up seeking recompense after all the work is done._

_That being said, if you send_ my sons _into a needless battle with the elves and men because you are too stubborn to negotiate and will not surrender any gold, we_ will _be having_ words _once I arrive. I have   put together an advance group with volunteers from our patrols, and Sveið has agreed to oversee the muster of caravans for the return journey so I may lead the advance. We will take the longer Southern route in light of the encroaching winter, but will hopefully avoid many of the hazards which plagued your journey._

_Your Company will be pleased to hear their families are well. Bombur’s two eldest prevailed upon their mother until she agreed to allow them to journey with my group. Glóin will be relieved to learn that Gimli failed to persuade Sveið of the same. Balin will be particularly proud of Una, she has been a credit to her father in her lessons and assisting me with clerical duties. And let Óin know that his husband was more than capable of healing all those in need._

_Tell Fíli and Kíli I love them and am so very proud of them. I cannot wait to see them once more and hear the tales of their journey._

_Your loving sister,_

_Dís_

There was a notation on the letter that it had been sent a week prior. Fíli would have to speak to Thranduil about gaining permission for his mother’s group to use the Old Forest Road. After the battle that had just occurred, the High Pass and the other lands around it should be clear enough of orcs to permit swift and safe passage. They may even be able to travel quickly enough to arrive before the winter storms truly settled in to the lands around Erebor. Certainly, Dís and her party were likely to avoid many of the delays that their own party had encountered.

Kíli had been listening intently as Fíli read aloud and now looked at the blond with shining eyes. “I thought we wouldn’t get a chance to see Amad until the spring. I wonder why she chose to lead the advance? I was half expecting that she would arrive with the very last caravan.”

The heir turned the idea over in his head, but had a feeling that he knew what had prompted her decision. “I think...maybe she suspected the goldsickness had taken hold of Thorin? As you said before, Kí, she was the only one he would listen to when he became particularly rock-headed and stubborn.” His voice came thin with the grief from speaking about Thorin in the past tense.

“So much has happened since then, I’m not sure even Amad would have gotten through at his worst. And now...” Kíli’s smile was sorrowful. “Should we try to get a message to her by raven, or wait until she arrives to break the news?”

Fíli sighed. “I’m not sure which would be kinder.”

He was interrupted before he could consider the matter further by Elrond’s arrival in the tent. The rest of the day passed in checks by the healers and consultations with Balin.

His mentor had taken on the role of Fíli’s entire Council and was already ragged around the edges because of it. Fíli would have to appoint more members to help him, though he was determined to keep nobles from the Iron Hills far from the positions they were undoubtedly clamouring for. One or two seats perhaps, but the majority of his Councillors would have to be dwarves who understood what the refugees from Erebor had experienced, even if their bloodlines were not of the ‘nobility’. Fíli would not have his people looked down on for the honest work they had done to ensure their survival.


	18. Friendships, New and Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vistors trickle in to speak to Fili while he's laid up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some mentions of amputation, prothetics, and disabilities.

The next day brought a pleasant surprise when Ori stopped by the tent. He settled into a chair between their beds with a grin. “It’s good to see the pair of you recovering. I’ve been told you’ll be joining me walking around soon, though I’m only allowed short trips just yet. I lost a lot of blood, and apparently Óin’s afraid I’ll fall over.” He sobered. “I was sorry to hear of Thorin. He deserved better.”

“Thank you, Ori,” Fíli answered steadily. “He did, though his death was an honourable one. He will be remembered for restoring the Sigin-târag [1] to Erebor once more.”

Kíli took his cue from the forced calm in Fíli’s voice. “It was quite a battle. But how about you, Ori? You must have quite a tale about the loss of your arm?”

The scholarly dwarf flushed in pleasure at the implication of heroism. It was not often he had the opportunity to brag of his exploits, not with Dori fretting for his safety.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared to the pair of you. Taking down Azog _and_ Bolg? They’re already calling you two Fíli Kinshield and Kíli Swiftarrow.

“For me, there was a moment in the battle where everything seemed to slow, and I turned to see a warg about to leap on Dori’s back. I lunged forward and pushed him out of the way, but with my arm in the space where he had been the warg latched on to it and bit down hard. It almost wrenched me off my feet before I brained it with my warhammer.

“It didn’t actually take my arm, but they were forced to amputate. Only hours after the battle, signs of infection were setting in and Óin was worried about blood poisoning.” Ori’s grin at the end of his story was sincere, but tinged with sorrow. At least until he rolled his eyes in familiar exasperation. “I keep having to sneak away from Dori. He’s worse than ever since I got hurt protecting him.”

Kíli laughed. “We shall just have to find something to keep him occupied then. With the folk from Laketown staying in the mountain this winter, he can look forward to having plenty of children to fuss over.”

“And while Dáin is here, we should ask him who crafted his prosthesis,” Fíli added. “He lost his leg at Azanulbizar, but he walks and fights as one unimpaired.”

“Do you think that would be possible?” Ori’s enthusiasm was unmistakeable. “I can’t hope that it would function _exactly_ like a normal hand, but perhaps Dori would worry less. And it would be nice to be able to support books with that arm.”

“Just do us a favour and refrain from asking for an ugly claw like Azog decided to jam in place of his hand,” Kíli teased.

All three laughed, and a few hours passed in pleasant conversation. It almost felt as though they were back on the road, or in the Khagal’abbad.[2] Fíli found himself reassured that there would still be moments of normality even here, where he could speak with old friends not as King, but as himself.

Before Ori left however, Fíli did have a favour to ask of him _as_ King. “Ori, do you suppose the library holds records of our oldest traditions? We could not have always had this expectation for royalty to be held above the common people.”

“I believe many of the records were salvaged from Khazad-dûm [3] before it was lost. Why?”

“It occurred to me that our traditions of holding wealth even above the skill of our hands may be part of what allowed the sickness to grasp hold. Thrór thought of his treasure before all else, and it was the downfall of many. Perhaps we should be looking to an older way of life for answers.”

In Ori’s gaze then, there was a new evaluation he had never seen before from the scholar. “I would be happy to, my King,” he bowed his head in respect.

With the arm on his undamaged side, Fíli tried to wave away the gesture. “Ori, I am asking you to look into this precisely _because_ I do not wish to set myself above.”

Ori’s sweet smile was tinged with a hint of sorrow. “And that is the reason why you _will_ be set apart, Fíli. Rather than a King who _demands_ respect, you will _earn_ it from your people.” But he refrained from bowing again as he left the tent, presumably to hide from Dori in the library instead.

* * *

After Ori’s departure, the next visitor came as quite the surprise to Fíli.

“Tauriel!” Kíli exclaimed happily when the redhead pushed past the tapestries. “I am pleased to see you well.”

“And I you. Both of you, Crown Prince Fíli,” she dipped a graceful bow to them.

Fíli smiled, waving her into the chair Ori had recently vacated. “Please, have a seat so we will not have to strain our necks to speak with you, Captain. And you saved my brother’s life, in private call me Fíli.”

Tauriel gave a pleased smile in return and easily folded into the chair. “I would be honoured,” she did not question the caveat of ‘in private’. “Please, call me Tauriel.”

It was startlingly easy to speak with her now that they were no longer on opposite sides of prison bars. In Laketown he had been too preoccupied to take note of her personality, but Fíli could see why Kíli had taken to her even while they were being held by Thranduil. Her open curiosity about the world outside of her forest was disarming, and Fíli found himself joining his brother in telling her about the places they had seen while serving as caravan guards. The furthest Fíli had ever been was Rohan, but Kíli had once travelled all the way to Gondor with a particularly ambitious dwarven merchant. The blond could see Tauriel’s yearning to travel and hoped she would someday have the opportunity. He understood all too well being limited by one’s duties.

In return, Tauriel shared her own tales of the forest she had lived in all her life. Hers were sadder, long years watching as the Greenwood slowly grew darker until the people in the lands around took to titling it Mirkwood instead. But there was wonder too. The lands around Thranduil’s domain had long resisted the creeping taint, and there could be found creatures and plants no longer found anywhere else on Arda.

Tauriel explained that when Oropher’s people fled the destruction of Doriath, they took with them whatever seeds they could from around their settlement and spread those throughout the woods of their new home. Among the creatures which had journeyed with them were the enormous velvety black butterflies which Bilbo had reported seeing when he climbed through the canopy. The Feast of Starlight which had been celebrated the night of their escape was another tradition transplanted with Oropher’s household.

It was with regret that Fíli bid her a good day when she stood and announced it was time for her to return to her Lord.

“Wait just a moment, Tauriel,” Kíli’s words halted her.

“Yes?”

“I would ask of you a favour, which comes with an apology and an explanation.”

Tauriel turned, smiling. “This must be quite the favour, to come with such additions.”

Kíli chuckled. “I suppose that did sound a little overdramatic. The favour I would ask is if you could find some dark wood for me, like oak or walnut? I was hoping to carve a crown for Fíli until a new one can be forged, and it would be nice to match it to the beads I already crafted.”

Surprised, Fíli’s hands went to his hair, realizing for the first time that his hair had been rebraided and the beads replaced at some point after the battle. His eyes softened when he looked at Kíli, realizing that he must have been the one to do it, the only one who knew how much a tidy appearance aided Fíli’s confidence. He had little idea how his brother had guessed that he would not wish to wear the Raven Crown which had been crafted for Thrór, beyond their shared distrust of gold. A crown to match his beads was much more appealing an idea.

Tauriel stepped closer, bending down to take a better look at the carving. “May I?” When Fíli nodded his permission, she gently lifted one of his braids and tilted it to examine the whole surface. “This is skilled work.”

“And the source of my apology and explanation,” Kíli interjected. “I had been working on those for Fíli and had them, along with my carving tools, tucked inside my tunic. When I saw one of the other guards search Fíli, I panicked and said the first thing which came to mind that would guarantee you would not do the same to me. I am sorry if my crude comment offended you.”

To the brothers’ surprise, Tauriel actually _giggled_. “You panicked? I must admit, I had wondered about the remark. In light of our later conversations, it seemed out of character.”

Kíli flushed. “I would have apologized sooner, but someone like Nori would have been able to use those carving tools as lock picks. I was afraid that you would take them had I told you.”

She was nodding. “I probably would have. You were becoming a friend, but that kind of personal feeling cannot be allowed to interfere with my duty. But I think a gift for your brother is reason enough to forgive you for a careless word. And I would be happy to find some wood for your project.” Tauriel flashed them an impish grin. “Perhaps I shall start by looking in Legolas’ trousers.”

Fíli and Kíli were struck mute for a moment before Fíli shocked himself by responding, “his breeches are so tight, I am unsure he would be able to hide _anything_ in there.”

There was a pause as all three digested what Fíli had just said, and all of them broke into loud laughter. It felt _fantastic_ for a moment to let loose, at least until his ribs protested the jostling and he found himself trying to curl in around the pain.

“Owww, I should not have laughed,” he groaned.

“Me neither,” Kíli agreed.

“Speaking of items confiscated while we were ‘guests’, do you think there would be any chance of having our weapons returned?” Fíli asked, thinking of his dual swords.

“It would be nice to have my bow back.” Kíli’s voice was wistful.

Tauriel was cautious in her response. “...I will certainly mention it to my Lord. I do not know about your company as a whole, but he is currently well-disposed towards you both. I think there is a good chance he will agree.

“But now I really must go. I am to lead some of my guards in the search of Laketown. However, I will return soon with the material you have requested. Are you in need of carving tools as well?”

The brunet shook his head. “No, thank you. I managed to hold on to mine, somehow.”

With a matching rueful smile and another bow, she was gone.

* * *

Fíli was starting to doze off after another visit from the healers when Nori’s unique russet peaks poked through the tapestries over the entrance.

“Might I have a moment, your Highness?” Nori asked with a sardonic grin. “I have a report for you from Laketown.”

The blond groaned when he pushed himself up in bed, propping himself on one elbow to wave Nori into the tent before his ribs reminded him of why he had been banned from moving. “Of course. Please, come sit.”

He strode into the tent with a confident swagger, taking the seat which had been left for any visitors. He made a show of settling himself, and because Fíli had been his onetime student, making a show of checking the positioning of all his concealed weapons. Fíli had no doubt that they had multiplied since the battle. Nori had always been more suspicious of avowed truces than open hostilities.

“Where’s that brother of yours?” was his first question once settled. “I would have thought he would be stuck to your side after a battle like that.”

Fíli chuckled. “Kíli is hobbling about at the suggestion of Lord Elrond. He said it will help ensure the scar tissue from the arrow in his calf remains supple. I am surprised you did not pass him on your way, he has not been gone for long.”

Nori simply quirked a grin and shrugged in response.

“So, was there much tension between those sent to Esgaroth to scavenge?” Fíli asked. He had been concerned over the matter ever since Bard and Dáin had departed together. It was a hopeful sign at least that no one had yet arrived to complain.

“Surprisingly few. Dáin and Bard chose well, and your elf friend Tauriel kept those under her command civil. And Bofur was an excellent suggestion; by the end of the day he had everyone singing tavern songs. That elf that confiscated your daggers, Feren, knows the filthiest lyrics.”

Fíli barked out a surprised laugh. “Of course. Were you able to salvage much from the ruins?”

“Much more than I had expected,” the thief looked pleased. “Dáin, Bard, and Balin have been working to ensure the supplies get stored and distributed fairly. Turns out the people of Laketown all had their little hidey-holes for things they didn’t want the Master’s cronies to find. It kept a lot safe from the flames. And the elves were able to get into many of the less structurally sound areas.

“Dáin was disappointed to hear that Smaug served as his own pyre though. I hear he’d wanted to make armour from his hide.”

“Did you hear anything of concern?”

He hummed and waggled his hand in a ‘so-so’ motion. “Nothing to act upon immediately. The usual grousing most folk do about their leaders. A few of the people of the Lake were questioning Bard’s right to assume leadership, but they don’t seem likely to make much of a fuss. Especially with the Master fled. Bard will have time to prove himself I think.

“Some few of Dáin’s warriors spoke of their Lord’s suitability over yours for the crown of Erebor, but he does not seem to have a desire to challenge your claim. Particularly in light of how the rest of them are talking about you and Kíli. You’d think you were Durin reborn, the way they’re carrying on about the defeat of Azog and Bolg. Not to mention facing down Smaug. You _will_ have to be wary of nobles from his court who wish to curry favour. A few names came up as those always slinking around Dáin jostling for a more influential position.”

Nori screwed up his face in distaste. “Over the past few generations, more nobles of the Zirinhanâd [4] have adopted the mannish custom of hand-fasting arranged for political gain. They may try to do the same with you, if you don’t make your commitment to Kíli clear.”

Fíli tried not to allow his startlement to be betrayed by his face, but the thief was too practised at reading people, by necessity.

“You’ve been good at keeping it private. I’m the only one who’s caught on so far as I know. It pays to be observant of small details.”

“Small details...such as guard patrol routes, or who has poorly watched valuables?” Fíli asked with a teasing grin. “To be honest, I believed you were too enthralled by the gold to notice.”

“I have to keep in practice _somehow_. An unobservant thief is a collared or dead thief, so even the treasure wasn’t enough to completely distract me. At least not enough to fail to notice the pair of you returning with silly grins and rumpled clothing.”

The blond hesitated for a moment. “...And you have not shared your observations with anyone?”

“It was tempting to watch Dwalin’s eyes bug out in surprise, but no.” He smiled more softly. “I figured you had your reasons for keeping it concealed.”

“Thank you. As always, I value your discretion. We _will_ share the news, but it has not yet been the correct time.”

“I understand.”

“I am grateful also for your efforts in gathering information in Laketown. Would you consider accepting the post of King’s Spymaster officially? At least as officially as such a position is ever known.”

“Depends. What would be involved?” Nori looked suspicious, which did not surprise Fíli at all. While tutoring him with daggers, the thief had also shared tales of seemingly genuine offers gone bad. He had taught Fíli how to look for the hook in any well-baited lure.

“I am afraid that as Spymaster should not be a post known to exist, you would be giving up the opportunity for the acclaim that belongs to all who volunteered for the quest. We will work together, if you agree, to decide the exact circumstances of your disgrace. If you are to be effective, you must be unremarked and disreputable once more.

“Even the majority of the Company must not know the truth about your role. You may tell your brothers, provided they agree to swear an oath of silence to our Maker. I would not have this cause strife between you though they must publically disdain your actions. Aside from them, Kíli and Dwalin would be the only others informed of the importance of your mission,” Fíli laid out his terms clearly.

“Do you anticipate any difficulties working closely with Dwalin? He will need to arrest you from time to time to provide authenticity, and I know that has been a source of friction between you in the past.”

Nori chuckled. “We have come to an understanding. At first I infuriated him by being hard to catch and harder to keep. He fascinated and frustrated me when he was one of the few guards who would not be bribed to look the other way. One of the few who could afford integrity.

“It was easier when Ori was apprenticed to Balin. I began to pass on information to Thorin through him. When Dwalin figured out I was the source, he tracked me down to make sure I wasn’t trying to manipulate things that way. We came to an agreement that he would ignore my past thefts so long as I continued to provide good information, and ‘kept my sticky fingers out of Thorinutumhu’.[5] I don’t know if you remember, but he also watched my first few sessions with you to make sure I wouldn’t kidnap or knife Thorin’s heir.”

Kíli hobbled in while Nori was finishing his explanation and quietly collapsed on his cot to rub his aching calf.

“I would ask that you also refrain from stealing in Erebor, at least from those folk who are loyal,” Fíli requested.

The archer perked up at the caveat. “If Nori is going to steal from traitors, perhaps there should be a sigil left behind at some thefts to alert them of the surveillance. We can sow a few rumours of a master assassin in connection to it. For those of lesser conviction, it would be likely to dissuade them from action. Others may act rashly and make an exploitable error.”

“I knew you had good instincts for this,” Nori looked proud, though Fíli could not distinguish if it was for his hunch or of Kíli. “Would you be interested in learning some spycraft?”

“Anything I can do to protect Fíli, I will,” was his immediate response.

Nori snorted. “The first thing we’ll need to work on is disguising your emotions, particularly in regards to your brother.”

Turning back to Fíli, he asked, “would you allow me to speak to Dori and Ori before I accept? The commitment will be just as much theirs.”

“Of course.”

* * *

“And we have begun moving the first of the women and children from Laketown into cleared homes on the First Rise, but we expect a week or longer before that is complete,” Balin continued his progress report. “Many require aid to make it from the temporary camp on the banks of the Long Lake, and we do not yet have enough homes cleared...”

The advisor’s voice trailed off as he turned to see who Dwalin had deemed important enough to permit to interrupt. Fíli could tell that only his long years serving on the Council prevented his jaw from hanging open as Thranduil entered the tent, accompanied by Tauriel.

“My Lord Thranduil,” Balin greeted him with perfect composure accompanied with gritted teeth. “What has brought you here today?”

Ignoring Balin, Thranduil inclined his head minutely, keeping his icy eyes locked with Fíli’s. “Your Majesty,” he turned slightly to include Kíli in his greeting, “your Highness. I would ask but a moment of your time, privately.”

Balin seemed about to protest, but Fíli spoke before he could. “Of course. Balin, would you be so kind as to wait outside until we have finished?”

“But...” he began, until the Heir Apparent gestured sharply in Iglishmek for him to be silent. Balin sighed heavily, “very well, my King. I will begin implementing what we had discussed in the meantime.” His path out of the tent took him in a wide path around the elves.

Fíli wished to sigh himself. Clearly not all the prejudice regarding Thranduil had been dispelled along with the gold-sickness.

“What did you wish to speak to me regarding?” he asked, regretting that his first meeting with the Elvenking would take place while he was flat on his back. It was not the image he wished to project to the haughty elf lord.

Fortunately Thranduil appeared to be too discomforted by the reason for his visit to take advantage. “I wished to thank you for the return of my wife’s necklace. It is one of the few mementoes I have of her.” It was clear he had little practice expressing gratitude of any sort.

“I was happy to return it. I only regret that we felt the need to use it to strike a bargain. If there is anything else among the treasures that belongs to your people, please let me know so that it can be returned as well.”

“I – Thank you. I will ask my people, and let you know. It is not what I had intended to speak to you regarding however.” The Elvenking turned to beckon the so-far silent Tauriel forward. Fíli noticed for the first time that she held a large, heavy package.

“A number of your possessions were confiscated when you were found by my people,” he said, untying the knot at the top of the bundle. “When Prince Kíli returned the necklace to me, I had thought you might appreciate their return.” The fabric fell open to reveal not only their weapons, but also their outer layers that had been thoughtlessly left behind in their cells.

Fíli began to sit up, unthinking, but a hand on his shoulder held him back.

“You should not strain your ribs, my King. Please, allow me,” Kíli patted his chest once before moving to relieve Tauriel of her burden. Before he took it from her, one hand reached out to stroke over his bow lovingly. She handed it over with a small smile dancing at the corner of her mouth.

Once Kíli had settled it on the foot of Fíli’s cot, the blond had a hard time restraining himself from reaching out to touch weapons he had never thought to see again. Instead he had to maintain what dignity he could in front of the other ruler. “Thank you, Lord Thranduil, this was a thoughtful gesture. We appreciate your generosity greatly. I look forward to forging an enduring alliance between my people and yours.”

“It was the least I could do.” Thranduil inclined his head once more before turning and leaving as abruptly as he had entered, Tauriel close on his heels. But not without a last teasing wink for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Durin's Folk
> 
> [2] Ered Luin, Blue Mountains
> 
> [3] Moria
> 
> [4] Iron Hills
> 
> [5] Thorin's Halls


	19. The Lady of Lorien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel has a test and a task for the brothers.

The next elven female to visit was not so congenial. Which was not to say that Galadriel was anything less than exquisitely courteous, but there was something unsettling about her regardless. Even beyond her uncanny prescience, Fíli had the feeling they were only permitted to see a small portion of her being. She glided into their tent accompanied by Gandalf and Elrond, but compared to those other guardians the sense of her tightly leashed power was still sharper. Fiercer.

The first hint of her visit was betrayed by a freshening breeze sweeping warmer air past the entrance tapestries. Kíli stiffened, nose in the air as if he were on a hunt.

“Do you smell that, Fí? We’re not close to Mirkwood, and yet...”

Curious, he sniffed the air, wondering what had Kíli’s hackles raised. It reminded him of the thick forests on the lower slopes near Thorinutumhu [1] where the evergreens gave way to silver birches and other trees. The heavy, earthy scent of leaf mold; but this was overlaid with the sweet scent of blossoms as well. It was a mystery, solved with the first step of the Lady of Lórien inside their tent. She carried her forest with her.

The small confines of their temporary home felt even smaller with the presence of the three powerful members of the White Council. Fíli had to consciously remind himself to sit tall and proud, relieved that the ban had been lifted though he was still confined to bed rest. Though the sensation was not deliberately oppressive, there was a sense of ancient strength cramped into a space too small and seeking to expand beyond. If this was what it was always like for elves, small wonder they favoured open architecture.

Striving to remain undaunted, Fíli met each of their eyes calmly, conscious as never before of his new role as King and the need to stand on equal ground with other rulers. He was young for a ruler of dwarves, nevermind compared to those present.

As ever when Elrond visited the tent, he spent a few moments looking over the progress of their healing wounds. However, this time the last of the bandages were tied in place with a pleased smile but he refrained from comment. Lady Galadriel was the first to break the considering silence.

“Shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ, Fíli, Kíli, dashut Dís.[2] It is a pleasure to at last meet the pair whose potential choices clouded my vision.”

The brothers instinctively responded in kind, the courtesy drilled into them unbroken despite the shock of hearing an elf speak in the archaic forms of Khazad-dûm Khuzdul. “Idmi! Shamukh ra ghelekur aimâ,” [3] the pair dipped their heads in matched bows.

“You are welcome here, my Lady. But may I ask - what do you mean about our choices clouding your vision?” While Fíli had intended to inquire as to her presence at the mountain, visions involving him and Kíli seemed the more urgent matter.

Galadriel smiled gently at his question, but her piercing blue eyes remained sharp. Her reply, when it came, was not aloud but spoken directly into his mind. At first it was just images, however disturbing: Kíli falling to the orc arrow when it struck home in his heart instead, Fíli allowing Thorin to persuade him to leave Kíli behind which in turn resulted in Smaug’s survival, both joining the Company in travelling to Erebor, and so many other paths that were never taken. In all the possibilities she showed him, he and Kíli died in fire or in battle.

“ _Had the pair of you chosen other than you did, much would have been lost. Had you fallen to the gold..._ ” And the images shifted. Gold cascaded through his mind and tinged his thoughts with an auric haze, more tempting than it had ever been in truth. Fíli saw he and his brother join the Company in their madness, Bilbo cast down to his death before they all fell to their besiegers.

“ _Or perhaps this is the more appealing outcome,_ ” she whispered into his mind. He saw himself as King, richly dressed in furs and brocades with gems dripping from his finery: hair and body alike. Erebor was once again a wealthy kingdom and her people flaunted that wealth and power in the manner of dwarven kingdoms of old. Representatives from other rulers as far as Rohan brought tribute to lie at his feet for the privilege of alliance and trade rights.

“ _Does none of this tempt you? If I do not lift the curse on the treasure, it will make your goods the most sought after on Arda. Folk will clamour to pay any price you ask for the crafts of your people._ ”

Rather than temptation, Fíli felt only revulsion at the idea. “ _I have no desire to be a tyrant king, bending others to my will while I hoard wealth and power. Please, remove the curse. I have already lost my uncle to its power; I have no wish to see what other tolls it would exact. My people are skilled and resilient; we have no need for enchantment to create._ ”

Galadriel’s satisfaction with his response could be felt as she gently withdrew from his mind. Fíli realized that at some point he had shut his eyes, and opened them to see the Lady giving him the first warm smile he had seen from her. Involuntarily, he found himself returning it, but he averted his eyes before he could become entranced once more.

Instead, he locked eyes with Kíli. His brother looked as dazed as he felt and he knew that Kíli had shared his experience.

“You have both chosen well, and for that I thank you.” For the first time, she inclined her head to _them_. “I fear however that as reward for bearing up under that great burden, I must now impart even darker knowledge to you.”

Fíli scarce knew how to react to her pronouncement. The Lady’s entry into the tent had already heralded a bewildering storm of emotion, and he had not yet had time to process what had transpired. “Lady Galadriel...?” He could find no clearer formulation for his query.

Lord Elrond spoke for the first time. “You wished to know the reason for our presence in the area, did you not?”

However correct, Fíli wished he could say ‘no’ without consequence. But it seemed this was another duty he had assumed with the mantle of Heir Apparent. “Yes, of course. Your timely arrival was incredibly unexpected and just as welcome. It seemed as though weightier matters concerned you than the fate of a single dwarven kingdom, at least when we halted in Rivendell.” Such a statement was made with full and bitter knowledge of how rarely the other peoples had aided his own.

“We had believed the same,” Elrond agreed, “save Gandalf, whose suspicions were roused by an artefact given to him by Radagast shortly before your company was ambushed by orcs.”

“Saruman’s dismissal of the one called ‘the Necromancer’ as nothing more than a human sorcerer convinced me to let the matter lie until we reached the edge of Mirkwood. The particular symbol used to desecrate the elven grove combined with the Morgul blade used against Radagast pointed to an older evil.” Gandalf eyed Fíli and Kíli with curiosity when they both startled at one word in particular, but continued nevertheless. “Lady Galadriel agreed with me, and that is when I parted ways with your Company.”

“A Morgul blade is what Bolg used to strike Kíli down during our escape from the Elvenking!” Fíli exclaimed, cutting any further explanation off.

For the first time, it was the Council members’ turn to wear expressions of surprise. “A Morgul blade, and yet here Kíli stands, uncorrupted,” Elrond mused in a tone of wonder.

Kíli hastened to clarify. “Óin said that Bolg had shattered such a blade and bound the pieces to arrow shafts. Tauriel, Captain to Thranduil, was able to heal me with athelas.”

“What did you mean by ‘uncorrupted’?” Fíli almost demanded of the healer.

“The danger of Morgul weapons lies not in the mortal wound, but what occurs after the wounding. The victim becomes a wraith, bound to the service of those whom the blades were created for, a lesser copy,” Elrond explained. “Where was the wound?”

Knowing it was not the time for modesty, Kíli quickly bared the patch of almost-healed scar tissue. After the discussion of ‘corruption’ and his memories of sick black tendrils leeching his brother’s life away, Fíli was relieved to see it remained entirely mundane.

“Remarkable,” Elrond studied the injury closely, almost forcing Kíli to hop closer to a lantern for better light. “This close to a major vessel, you should have faded in minutes, hours at the most. I have seen powerful warriors of men succumb much faster, and proud elves take their own lives rather than serve the Enemy. Instead you bore it for...?”

“Five days, almost six,” Fíli responded. He was unsure if the feeling welling within was pride or terror, but he wished this audience could conclude already so he and Kíli could bolster each other’s strength.

"Aüle [4] crafted his children to endure indeed. However, athelas alone could not have healed such a wound.” The elf lord met Kíli’s puzzled hazel eyes. “If she has as little training in healing as a warrior customarily receives, she must have instinctively drawn on the power of her fëa [5] to cleanse the infection from his soul. A risky move, for if she had failed, they both would have been lost to the twilight as wraiths.”

After so saying, he leaned back and gave an unexpected light-hearted laugh. “I should like to meet her, if there is an opportunity before we depart. I am not sure my healing methods would have achieved such a swift recovery, though they would be more sure.” He turned to look solely at Kíli once more. “Wounds from these weapons are known to linger in those who survive. I should not be surprised if you have pain from this on or around the date of your injury for years to come.”

“Thank you, my Lord. If that is the only complication, I shall count myself lucky,” Kíli grinned back, the two lifting some of the heavy atmosphere that had fallen. “I do not think Tauriel would object to a meeting if her Lord permits.”

He turned back to Gandalf with that. “What happened after you left us at the borders of Mirkwood?”

Fíli’s keen eyes, trained to notice weaknesses for the purposes of negotiation, caught Gandalf’s tiny flinch, though Kíli had not intended the question as a slight.

While at first he had told his story to the group at large, now Gandalf directed his words to Fíli and Kíli, bright blue eyes showing his age and his sorrow. “I regret that I broke my word to meet the Company at the overlook, and for that you have my sincere apology. Perhaps, had I been there...”

The heir shook his blond mane in negation. “We had considered that early on, but Thorin was in no mood to listen to reason, particularly not from you.”

“There was no reason for him not to become violent in defending his gold, as he certainly would have seen you as a threat,” Kíli added. “I do not believe that is an outcome any of us would desire.”

Gandalf nodded wearily. “I agree that ending was likely, though I wish...”

Kíli interrupted with an archer’s instinct for the true target. “What did you discover in your investigation that led to the gathering of the White Council?”

The lines in the Grey Wizard’s face deepened as he considered his answer. “I found an ancient enemy; one whom we had hoped would remain dormant and powerless. Sauron.” He seemed to debate with himself whether or not to reveal what else he had discovered. As he did, the reason for the depth of his sorrow was apparent.

“In the maze that Sauron has made out of Dol Guldur, I stumbled across the remains of a number of previous...guests. I took the time to examine them. One bore a necklace with Thráin’s crest on it, and a rotting leather journal was just legible enough to confirm his identity. I am sorry, but at some time after Thráin left your people, he was captured by Sauron’s forces while making his way to Erebor. Perhaps it was a fate he feared when he chose to send the map and key away.

“Deeper inside the fortress, I discovered the orc army Azog had gathered for his master. I was careless in my retreat and the orcs drove me away from the entrance I had used. In the end, I was forced to pit my abilities against Sauron himself: even diminished as he has become he was more than my match. He tore away my protections and left me for his orcs to imprison. It is for that reason that I missed the rendezvous.”

He paused to wait for Fíli to react, but the heir was stunned into silence. After everything else, the grandfather who had vanished before he and Kíli were even born had been lost trying to reclaim the mountain? The same mountain that their uncle had died for? His hands clenched around the thick fabric of his trousers until his knuckles turned white from the force. Fíli had no frame of reference for how to cope with the news about Thráin, much less that Sauron had returned, leaving him clinging desperately to the stoic demeanor Thorin had emphasized. From the choked off wounded noise from the cot next to his, the news posed a similar challenge for Kíli.

“I am sorry for that, Tharkûn.[6] How is it that you escaped then? And what can we possibly do with this news that Sauron has returned?” Fíli’s forced hold on his composure was evident in the strain in his words.

“When we received Mithrandir’s [7] confirmation that the Necromancer was indeed Sauron in disguise, we Council members set out for Dol Guldur with all haste,” Galadriel responded. “We confronted him and managed to force him to abandon that stronghold, but he fled East and his strongest servants with him.

“The threat has not been destroyed, merely delayed. We have some years yet, but the power of Mordor _will_ rise once more. And when it does we must be ready for it.”

“Is that what you are asking us to do? Prepare our people to face this evil?” Kíli asked.

Elrond looked somber. “In part. Erebor is a powerful stronghold, one Sauron desired for more reasons than the dragon within. With your willingness to mend the relationships between your people and those of Dale and Mirkwood, it places you in a position to lead the defense of the north. The Enemy will not be content with attacking on one front only, and the Witch-King desires nothing more than to reclaim his realm of Angmar. He has legions in Rhûn and Harad who would welcome the opportunity to move west.”

“It has also been too long since our people shared council,” Galadriel added. “There was a time when there was a great friendship between my people of Eregion and those of Hadhodrond,[8] and we traded freely with other kingdoms. We allowed Sauron to destroy the ties between the Free Peoples, but with the threat of his return they must be drawn together once more.

“Would you be amenable to the occasional meeting? It would only need be every second year, unless we receive important news.”

“Of course,” Fíli agreed. “I would be pleased to establish alliances with the lands under your rule, and to share information. I look forward to working with you.”

Galadriel smiled. “And I you. You show an uncommon wisdom. Tomorrow, Gandalf and I will break the curse that lies upon the gold.”

“Thank you.” Fíli felt a great burden lift from his shoulders at her promise the enchantment would be taken care of the next day.

__________

After the final details were settled and farewells concluded, Fíli at last allowed himself to slump back into the pillows in exhaustion. His healing ribs had begun to ache before they had been speaking a quarter hour. With a heavy sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face even as his mind raced. Too many revelations in such a short time.

Kíli’s sigh matched his own as his brother limped his way to collapse in the narrow space beside him. “That was...” his voice trailed off.

“Too much,” Fíli agreed.

When Kíli wrapped his good arm around the blond’s shoulders, he turned to bury his face into the crook of Kíli’s neck, releasing a shuddering breath just short of a sob. He could feel Kíli’s own hot tears trickling into his hair from where his brother’s cheek was pressed against it. He only hoped they would be left alone for a time.

To the very end, Thorin had never given up hope that his father still lived. It was one of the reasons he had never allowed himself to be officially crowned, though the Sigin-târag [9] had treated him as King regardless. It had been a painful topic for their uncle, and Fíli and Kíli had learned young not to ask about Thráin. Most assumed he had gone mad in a different way than Thrór and abandoned his people.

Fíli wondered if it would have changed anything, had Thorin known Thráin had died attempting to return to Erebor.

As if reading his thoughts, Kíli spoke, “if might have simply made him more determined. Or perhaps he would have wished to avenge him and provoked the necromancer, unaware of his true identity.”

“How did you...?”

Kíli chuckled. “I know you fairly well, nadad. It’s been on my mind too, hoping Thráin was still alive to hear Erebor had been reclaimed. I would have liked to meet our grandfather.”

“Me too, Kí.” He twisted further into his brother’s arms, ignoring the ache of healing wounds to put his ear over Kíli’s heart. Its steady beat was grounding, reminding him he had not lost everything. “We need to move into the mountain soon. I need some time alone with you without fear we’ll be interrupted."

"Agreed, though I’m still too injured to do everything I wish with you,” Kíli sighed. “Even more than that, we need the space to grieve.”

There was a long pause as they both considered that. The brunet was the first to break the heavy silence. “Have you given any thought to letting others know of our relationship?”

When Fíli failed to respond quickly, Kíli continued more hesitantly, “we don’t have to share the news immediately? It has not yet been the right time, and there is still much to be settled first. But as King, there will soon be questions about the succession and who you shall wed...” His voice cracked on the final word.

“Oh, Kí, no. I would have you crowned at my side as King Consort.”

“Really?”

“Of course! It will have to wait until my official coronation, for we must be hand-fasted first, but I no longer have any doubt. You are my choice, and always will be. I only regret that it took the prospect of losing you for me to see that.”

The delighted hug from Kíli in response to his words drew a pained squeak from Fíli, embarrassingly high-pitched.

“I’m sorry, Fí. I forgot about your ribs for a moment. Are you alright?”

Fíli laughed helplessly, the action was so characteristic of his sometimes impetuous brother. “I’m fine, just please try to remember my ribs in future.”

The archer nodded his agreement and both allowed silence to fall once more, the bustle of camp around them the only noise aside from their breathing. At last they had a daytime pause to enjoy some privacy and closeness. As much as Fíli wished to simply live in the moment of relaxation, he could not entirely prevent himself from turning over the knowledge of Sauron and of the many things that would need to be taken care of for Erebor’s restoration. Kíli’s soothing arms wound warm around his shoulders were the only thing that prevented him from being overwhelmed.

When their sanctuary was disturbed at last, Bombur had the courtesy to announce his presence before entering, giving Kíli the chance to return to his cot and Fíli to regain his composure. The cook pushed his bulk past the tapestries with a shy smile at their welcome, presenting both with a bowl of thick stew and some bannock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Thorin's Halls
> 
> [2] "Hail and well met, Fíli, Kíli, sons of Dís"
> 
> [3] "Welcome! Hail and well met."
> 
> [4] Mahal
> 
> [5] spirit, soul
> 
> [6] Gandalf - dwarven name
> 
> [7] Gandalf's - elven name
> 
> [8] old elven name for Moria


	20. Oathtaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili makes good on his promise. And at last Fili can leave his cot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has _huge_ chunks of Khuzdul. I'm sorry, but it felt important for how it's being used. As always, translations are in hovertext and in the end notes.
> 
> I have also included some inspiration for dwarven traditions based on Judaism. If I have used these in a way that offends any of my readers, I apologize. Please let me know how I can fix it.

Blond braids were tousled and frayed under Fíli’s aggravated fingers in the wake of another round of wrangling with Dáin when Kíli returned from his daily healer-mandated walk. As soon as the Lord of the Iron Hills had taken Fíli’s measure and made the choice not to challenge his claim, he had thrown his efforts into making sure Fíli was crowned as soon as possible. So far his injuries had been sufficient argument to wait, but he could tell that Elrond’s assurance that he would be healed by the end of the week held true.

It was not merely reluctance to accept the crown as final proof of his burden that was the reason behind his delay. The funeral for those who had sacrificed themselves in the battle against the orcs must take place before his coronation, and he had received a message only that morning from his mother agreeing to the change in route. She assured him that they would arrive within the fortnight. It was her right to see her brother returned to the stone, and he wished for his mother to attend his coronation, however selfish that desire was.

He was so lost in thought that he failed to notice Kíli’s movements until his brother gently pried his fingers from his braids. It was only then that he realized his tugs had unravelled the braids at his temples and he clutched a bead in each hand.

“What has you so agitated, amrâl?”[1] Kíli asked, liberating the beads from where they had imprinted their designs into Fíli’s palms. He removed the rest and began to comb cautiously through tangled hair while the blond sighed and made his response.

“Dáin was here while you were out. We have at last agreed on appropriate timing for the dwarven funeral and my coronation. Each of the peoples who engaged in the battle will have a ceremony in their own manner, attended by representatives of each, as well as any others who choose to.

“Dáin tells me the enemy have already been unceremoniously burned and buried to remove their filth, but the men will be the first to have their funeral rites. Their fallen will be burned upon great pyres in a week and a day. They wish to carry wood from Laketown to fuel the fires, but the living must be moved first. Cairns will be raised over the resting places of the elves four days after that, and the dwarves laid in stone another four days later, exactly three weeks after the battle. It was the best we could do to fulfill the requirements of _haded_ ,[2] three times seven days. Then there will be a day between the funeral and my coronation ceremony.

Releasing Fíli’s braids, Kíli laughed and pulled something from the sack he had taken to carrying around. Fíli quirked an eyebrow at his grin and concealment of whatever it was behind his back.

“What do you have there?”

It became clear when his brother offered a dark circlet on his outstretched palms.

“If your coronation approaches, then you will be needing this, my King.”

Fíli’s breath caught in his throat as he reached out to take the crown from Kíli. In truth, it was the finest piece he had ever seen his brother create. A deceptively simple item, it was primarily a band of thick angular knotwork, but upon closer inspection the geometric lines were composed of hundreds of overlapping feathers with each delicate vein carefully carved. The same attention carried over at the back, where a pair of raven's wings unfolded from the knotwork band which would cup the back of his head with just enough of a gap between for the central braid he favoured.

The heir spun the crown in his hands once more to admire the detail when his attention was caught by something on the inside of the band. Somehow, between the gaps created by the pierced knotwork, Kíli had fit the same version of their sigils combined as he had carved into the beads he had meticulously braided back into Fíli’s hair.

“Kí, it’s beautiful.”

He flushed at the praise. “I know a wooden crown is not entirely fitting for a king of Durin’s line, but I thought you would prefer not to wear a crown from the hoard, and I have not the skill to forge a new one. Perhaps it may be used as a model for your true crown.”

Fíli reached out and grasped the back of his head to touch their brows together. “It would be enough simply because you made it for me, amrâl. But you were correct in that I have also quite lost my taste for gems and precious metals. A wooden crown suits me perfectly.”

He held the crown back out to Kíli. “Will you be the first to place it upon my head, nadad? I must be crowned by another, but if seems fitting that you be the first.”

The archer’s fingers shook slightly as he reached out to take it back, but hazel met blue steadily as he raised it above Fíli’s bowed head and set it to rest on blond waves. “King of Durin’s line, may you rule wisely and long.”

Fíli closed his eyes as it settled around his brow and felt his body echoing the trembling of Kíli’s. It was less of a weight than he had been expecting. Somehow he was unsurprised that it fit perfectly.

His eyes blinked open once more when Kíli grasped his elbow and used it to lower himself to kneel. He looked down in confusion. “Kí?” The change in perspective drew his eyes to the new addition to Kíli’s even features. Óin had removed some of their bandages just that morning, laying bare the scar which crossed the bridge of his nose. It just made Kíli even more striking and wild.

“Will you allow me to be the first to swear my loyalty to my new King?”

Kíli’s dark eyes drew him in, but despite the pride surging through him, he was reluctant. “I’m...I’m not sure. How are you going to stand at my side if you’ve sworn yourself to me?”

The archer grasped Fíli’s hands between his. “Fí, I can still be your equal. That’s why I wish to swear this with you as my sole witness. It’s only for us. I _believe_ in you, Fíli. Your wisdom and compassionate heart are what our people need.”

As was so often the case, Fíli could not think of another reason to deny his brother. Not with such an earnest request. And it seemed that Kíli had anticipated his own needs as well; knowing that he had such faith in Fíli helped bolster his belief in himself.

Kíli’s soft smile at the relaxation in his posture told him that the brunet had read his surrender. “Thank you, razdûn-uzbad.”[3]

For this moment alone he was grateful to Thranduil for the return of his swords, cleaned left to rest upon the chest at the foot of his cot. It meant much to have his blades that had seen them both through many battles for Kíli to swear his oath upon. A few steps were enough for him to grasp hold of the dual sheath which held them. Holding a pommel out to Kíli, he was uncomfortably conscious of the crown around his brow as he met his brother’s clear eyes, but he held his swords steady as Kíli’s hand rested on the hilt.

“E Kíli, Dísul, Thráinul, nê-uzbad kayalu Durinul. Saktibi muhûl-ê gilkhal, masakhkhûn izdnu zefsu. Muhûlu kâl sanradîn mimal, afakil tada mahassûn mukhuh menu ra azdun-zu. Birasakinmîn astû abnâthu amnâs?”[4]

“Astu mazannagûn gald-zu ra imhaznâg-zu êthârul darân uru. Makaragul e mi bujbu-zu mabannthûn du e.”[5]

“E, Kíli, abnathiglêb’ala id-abnâth nifbural menu uzbad-ê ra nifbural id-Ufran-mâ nefsu. Adu mahadruni id-mashagu’uzghu fa nurt’ashur id-gabâk u khal. Absharabi mi aruk-zu. Zagr-ê marakhsun-zu ra mahmarakhsun akyâl-zu ga akyâl-ê. Sablanîn nitada aztuk, mabannathûn mahabnûn astû aya kul tathrinîn tagrabîn gadra estû. Galbur-ê makhajjami azdun-zu sannumuni id-ablâr ra id-fahn. Êfla Mahal gabil madaharûn e nîd birasabkhani uhuhdai-zu urasgânu galabi fa umhul.”[6]

“E, Fíli, Dísul, Thráinul; E zuddunmi ins Uzbad u Sigin-târag kalatmi abnâthu-zu, kalatsun id-Ufran-mâ. E demmi astu kung mi iraku e ‘uzghu ra gabâk. Amnâr e agannatûn tada’izsalul adrân a’râkh safkilîn binithrak. Amnâs akhajjami amnâs, akrâg akhajjami akrâg,” he paused to smile at Kíli, “ra amrâl akhajjami amrâl. Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu.”[7]

“Kí, promise that you’ll remind me that a King should serve his people, not the other way around, if it ever seems like I’m forgetting.”

“Of course, amrâl, but I doubt I’ll ever need to.”

Fíli opened his mouth to argue, but Kíli cut him off.

“You would not have asked for that promise if you were going to lose yourself that way, Fí,” he retorted affectionately. “Thorin enjoyed the power of being King far more than you ever will, and yet he never became the tyrant you fear.” He released the sword in favour of grasping Fíli’s hips reassuringly, “you will be a good King, nadad.

“Now,” he continued with a wink and salacious grin, “shall I begin my _service_ to you, your Majesty? I _am_ already on my knees.”

It took a moment for Kíli’s offer to register, but when it did, Fíli flushed red from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears and dropped his swords in shock. “Kí!” It was not so much his daring, but they had just shared such a grave moment... His shock gave way to laughter. It was so like Kíli not to allow him time to over think.

Kíli continued to grin up at him and slid his hands from the blond’s hips to his flies. “You’ll have to be quiet though, Fí. We _are_ still in a tent, who knows who could hear you?”

Despite his best efforts to follow Kíli’s injunction to silence, Fíli’s breath left him on a high whimper when the brunet’s fingers ghosted over his slowly filling cock. “Kíli?” He couldn’t quite believe it was really happening.

“Is this alright, Fí?” Kíli paused with his hands on the laces of the swordsman’s trousers. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“No,” Fíli whispered. “No, you don’t need to stop. You just surprised me is all.” He reached out and threaded his fingers into Kíli’s wild hair.

Pleased, Kíli mouthed over his still-clothed shaft, reaching at the same time to begin unfastening his flies. The blond felt him smile at his own gasp and tugged on the hair in his hands in retaliation. What he wasn’t expecting was for Kíli to moan at the pull, and his hips bucked forward at the vibrations along his suddenly stiff cock. He snickered softly at the thought that at this rate, he wouldn’t even last until the archer got his trousers down.

Kíli’s nimble fingers had his lacings unfastened quicker than he’d expected however, and his cock was soon sliding into wet, sucking heat. “Fuck, Kí,” he choked on a groan when his brother swallowed him deep.

It didn’t take long before Fíli was almost hyperventilating in an effort to hold back the cries of pleasure continually trying to spill from his throat. He was drowning in sensation, the lack of air somehow only making everything that much more intense and satisfying.

At least until his still-healing ribs protested their overuse. A particularly full inhale had a very different kind of strangled groan emerging.

Alarmed, Kíli looked up at him. But then... “Ee-ri?” he made the mistake of trying to speak around his mouthful, unthinking.

“Aah!” Fíli cried out, stumbling back and away from Kíli’s teeth.

“Oh shit, Fí. I’m so sorry!” Kíli shot to his feet, reaching out to steady his brother. Unfortunately the archer grasped him around his ribcage. Even Fíli could scarcely believe the tiny squeak of pain from his throat.

“Fuck, shit, sorry. Sorry, sorry.” Kíli’s hands fluttered over him frantically, but his brother seemed reluctant to actually touch him lest he cause Fíli more pain.

It all struck Fíli as so ridiculously funny that he wound up giggling helplessly. From oath to sex and now this?

Kíli’s face twisted in confusion at the sudden burst of hilarity from the blond whose injuries he had only just aggravated. “What? Fíli? What’s going on?”

He sounded so adorably confused that Fíli laughed even harder, leaning his forehead onto Kíli’s shoulder for support. “It’s-so-ab-surd,” he gasped out between laughs. Though still puzzled, his laughter proved contagious for the brunet. Soon they were leaning against each other, struggling to stand.

The mirth shaking through Fíli’s body did nothing to soothe the fiery pain radiating from his ribs however. The combination had tears springing to his eyes. At least this time when he staggered, Kíli was more mindful of where he put his hands when he reached out to steady him. Forced to use his broken arm to wrap around Fíli’s waist, Kíli had a wince of his own on his face. In the end, Fíli failed to maintain his balance with his trousers around his knees and they collapsed in a heap on a cot, Fíli sprawled across Kíli’s chest.

“Owww,” Fíli complained, still giggling weakly. “That was a mistake.”

“Agreed,” Kíli’s arms hit the bed with a thud as if emphasizing his point. “It was fun for awhile though. I cannot wait until we have quarters in the mountain and you won’t have to worry about remaining silent.”

Fíli hummed absently, squirming a little to find a more comfortable position. Doing so brought to his attention exactly _why_ he had fallen as well as how undignified his sprawl was if anyone happened to walk into their rather _un_ secure tent. His face flamed as he struggled to regain his feet, whining when the movement strained his ribs again.

“What’s wrong, Fí?” Kíli asked, grunting when Fíli’s movement drove an elbow into his gut.

“Help me, my trousers...” Giving up on the attempt to stand, the blond tugged fruitlessly at the offending garment.

Staring at Fíli, Kíli burst into loud laughter once more when his situation registered. “Hold still for a moment, razdûn-ê.[8] I can’t help with you wiggling like that.”

“Kí?” But his question was answered as he stopped moving and the archer wrapped his arms around him and rolled quickly. Kíli stood quickly and helped him set his clothing to rights before pulling him to his feet.

“Better?”

The blond chuckled and nodded his agreement. And only just in time, as Ori pushed through the tent flaps bearing another report.

* * *

A week and a half after Fíli first opened his eyes in the wake of the battle he took his first steps outside of the tent he had been confined to. A little longer to recover than Elrond had predicted, but apparently his...exertions with Kíli had served to delay his healing. When the first gust of freezing wind swirled under his clothing he was thankful for the return of his leather coat, a much better barrier than the woolens from Laketown.

Only moments after stepping out, a roar sent Fíli’s hands flying to his sword hilts. He relaxed when his vision cleared of the momentary sun-blindness to reveal that the sound was not an indicator of renewed battle. The dwarves, along with the odd man and elf, had halted in their work to cheer his re-emergence. With wide blue eyes, he took in all those who had paused to acknowledge them, left utterly uncertain as to how to react.

A hard elbow in his back shoved him forwards a stumbling half-step as Kíli hissed, “smile, Fí, and wave to them.”

Hesitantly, Fíli took another step on his own and raised his hand, venturing a smile that grew with the cheers. The sound swelled to fill the hollow in his chest that had grown spending his recovery wondering how he could possibly lead the Sigin-târag without his Uncle’s guidance. It was reassuring to know that somehow he had already earned supporters outside of the Company.

The way the onlookers did not immediately return to their work made the Heir Apparent aware he should probably give them words of acknowledgement. Indeed, the crowd watching had only grown while he hesitated. “I thank you, dwarves of the Iron Hills. Not only for your welcome today, but for your aid in the battle. Were it not for your timely arrival and willingness to ally with those you thought to be fighting against, many more lives would have been lost.

“And to our human and elven allies, we owe you a great deal of gratitude for laying aside your grievances to fight alongside us. I know many of you were injured or lost comrades in a battle you had not expected. I thank you for your sacrifice. I hope all will join me in honouring our fallen as they richly deserve, no matter which Vala they honour.

“I look forward to all three peoples working together in peace as we have proven we are capable of in war. Together, we will reclaim this land from the desolation Smaug made of it. Already I can see the efforts you have begun, your tireless work to clear away the destruction the battle left in its wake. I must go now to look in on a comrade who took a grievous injury, but you have my continuing gratitude.”

“To Fíli Kinshield! To Kíli Swiftarrow!” Another round of cheers followed his speech, and it was not just the dwarves who had adopted their bynames.

The crowd dispersed, Fíli turned to Bofur, Bombur, and Óin. “You said Bifur woke yesterday? I am relieved to hear it; he suffered no further...damage from the abrupt removal of the axe?”

Bofur and Óin exchanged oddly gleeful smiles while Bombur looked down and shuffled his feet hesitantly.

“Not at all. Elrond gave him a sleeping tonic last night to ensure a full rest, but he should be awake and alert this morning,” Óin replied.

Bofur spoke next, bouncing a little in his excitement. “And the rest of our Company will meet us there soon."

Fíli and Kíli glanced at each other, made suspicious by their behaviour, but Fíli could not imagine what had prompted it. With a shrug, the blond gestured for them to lead the way. They would find out soon enough.

His first sight of Bifur since the battle, and the old warrior seemed strangely unchanged. While the place the axe had been was swathed in bandages, his hair remained dishevelled and his eyes slightly wild. “Bifur! It is good to see you well! When I heard you had returned the axe at last, I had feared you would never wake.”

Bifur grinned widely. “It would have been worth it, either way.”

“I had thought you would...”

Fíli’s agreement was cut off by his brother’s shout. “Bifur! You can speak Westron once again?”

The heir almost continued automatically after so many days spent in plans and diplomatic conversation before the import of Kíli’s words registered. Thick lashes shuttered blue eyes in shock, once, twice...   “Removing the blade was enough for you to regain the use of the common tongue?”

“Aye, your Majesty,” Bifur’s speech was slower than the average, but clear and unslurred, and his eyes were bright with joy and relief. “Lord Elrond told me it had been pressing against an important part of my brain. I could understand anything said to me, but my speech suffered.”

Kíli laughed in delight. “So this is what Bofur, Bombur, and Óin were so pleased about.” He clapped Bifur on the shoulder.

Fíli nodded agreement with his brother’s words as a smile deepened the dimples beside his mouth. “Many things seem to have come full-circle, stories which began in that long war in the darkness and ended on the battlefield less than a fortnight ago.” Sometimes he felt as though he and Kíli had been dropped in the centre of it all, so much tragedy and so many feuds that had begun before they were even born. ‘ _Bifur had been carrying that axe for...’_ To endure their exile among other peoples while unable to speak the common tongue, or even make himself understood clearly to many of their own folk?

The old warrior chuckled. “It was welcome to have the opportunity to return that axe at last.” Some of the joy in his eyes faded. “The battle which gave it to me though... I wish it could have been avoided.”

“As do we all,” Balin added his grave agreement.

The brothers spun to see the rest of the Company standing in the tent’s entry. All save one. Fíli fought back tears, the reminder of their loss more acute with them gathered together once more. Even Bilbo had joined them, and it gave the swordsman some measure of comfort to see the hobbit at ease with their companions once more.

“Right, lads,” Bofur clapped his hands, disrupting the morose atmosphere which had begun to settle. “This is supposed to be a celebration that all of our injured are back on their feet. There will be a proper time for mourning later. For now, Nori and I liberated us a cask of mead in the search of Laketown.”

Wide grins greeted this announcement, though a few dwarrows looked around in puzzlement for the promised cask.

“We thought we’d stash it with our surprise for our royalty,” Nori winked at the others.

“Another surprise?” Kíli asked.

Fíli looked around at the madly grinning Company. Even the most proper like Dori wore small smiles. Ori’s grin almost split his face. “Bifur’s recover was wondrous enough, what else could you possibly have for us?”

“You’ll have to wait to see,” Glóin said. “And it’s inside the mountain, so you’ll have a bit of a hike.”

Fíli felt an inappropriate surge of heat with his sudden recollection of the last time someone had led him to a surprise within Erebor. He was fortunately distracted from his sparking lust by Óin’s words. “I held back your recovery announcement a day to ensure you would be well enough for the walk.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] love
> 
> [2] seven, insp. by tradition of sitting shiva in Judaism
> 
> [3] sun-king
> 
> [4] "I, Kíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, never-King of Durin’s line. You know well my deeds, having witnessed them yourself. Of future deeds I care little, save that I may aid you and your rule. Will you accept my oath of loyalty?"
> 
> [5] “You have proven your worth and bravery many times over. I am honoured by your choice to swear to me.”
> 
> [6] “I, Kíli, swear this oath before you my King, and before our Maker himself. Whether in the madness of battle or the everyday demands of peace I will stand by your side. My sword will be your shield and I will defend your life with my own. Should I fail in this, I swear I will avenge you on those who dared raise arms against you. My council will be given to uphold your rule to the best of my abilities and knowledge. May mighty Mahal strike me down if I prove false to you through word or deed.”
> 
> [7] “I, Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin; I who will be King of Durin's Folk have heard your oath, as has our Maker. I welcome your presence by my side in war and in peace. In return I vow that you will never be alone in time of need, or left without means of support. Loyalty will be returned with loyalty, honour with honour,” he paused to smile at Kíli, “and love with love. May Mahal bless you."
> 
> [8] my sun


	21. Surprises and Sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili receive their surprise from the Company, but not without the others getting a surprise of their own.

No matter how Fíli and Kíli pleaded or demanded an answer, the Company remained tight-lipped. Eventually they gave up on asking and settled easily into the occasionally acrimonious banter that had characterized their journey across half of Arda. Almost it felt like home, so familiar and soothing was it.

And so it continued onto the First Rise, Second... As they continued upwards, Fíli began to harbour suspicions of where their destination would be. Suspicions which were confirmed when they came to a halt in front of an intricately carved door on the Fourth Rise. The quarters for Durin’s heirs.

What he could not guess at was _why_. Perhaps there were heirlooms left behind when the mountain had been evacuated?

Kíli broke the expectant hush which had fallen, the Company awaiting their reactions. “Was this Great Grandfather’s room?”

“Not quite,” Dwalin looked smug as he pushed the heavy door open with a burly arm, “these _chambers_ are for the pair of you. They were vacant during Thrór’s rule.”

They stood frozen for a moment in surprise, long enough for most of the dwarrows to push past them, excited about whatever they had prepared.

Balin was one of those who hung back slightly. Fíli smiled when his old mentor gave him a gentle nudge forward. “Go on, lad. Sooner you see, sooner we can get to the mead.”

Fíli shrugged and strode in, Kíli close at his heels. They both stopped dead once more only just inside. Whatever Fíli had expected of the surprise the Company had prepared, it had not been the sight that greeted him.

“This – this is incredible...” The blond took in the main chamber. Rather than the dusty rooms filled with still sturdy furniture but slowly crumbling furnishings, falling further into decay with the slightest touch, this room was warm and comfortable. Already, a fire burned in the hearth which was flanked by a pair of worn but serviceable leather armchairs. Another portion of the room held a solid oak table and set of chairs for dining.

Investigating further, he found that the first chamber opened on to a number of other rooms: a room for holding private conferences, a study, and a bedroom with a single large bed. Where they had managed to find a mattress and linens, he did not know, but he was incredibly grateful for their thoughtfulness. There was even a large bathing chamber just off the bedroom.

“We thought you wouldn’t mind sharing until the spring arrives, the bedding supplies are somewhat limited,” Nori smirked at them, enjoying his secret knowledge.

Not that it remained secret for long.

Fíli was overcome that he would have true privacy to grieve at last, and just to be with Kíli. This would be their first proper bed since they had left home; Thorin had been untrusting enough of the elves to insist the Company stay together in Rivendell and their lodgings in Esgaroth had been lacking, even after receiving the Master's blessing. Forgetting for a moment they did not yet have the privacy promised by the chamber, he turned to his brother with a bright smile.

Kíli returned it in kind, at least until his eyes opened wide with shock when Fíli grasped the back of his neck and pushed himself up on his toes to close the height gap and catch Kíli in a kiss. Before Kíli could truly respond, the gasps of the dwarrows around them reminded the blond they still had an audience.

In the silence that fell, Fíli backed away from Kíli, face flaming, feeling much as he had as a dwarfling caught doing something he was not supposed to. He fought against his first instinct to hunch in and make himself appear smaller, to deny what they had seen. Not for anything would he have Kíli believe he was ashamed of their new relationship. It was one of the best things he had experienced in his life, but he had anticipated a more...calculated disclosure.

Meanwhile, as was their habit, the Company was speaking very loudly all at once. From what the blond could gather they were divided between offering congratulations, queries as to how long they had been courting, and confusion over how or why they had hidden the news.

Seeing that Fíli was still struggling with embarrassment over his impulsive action, Kíli stepped forward to take charge, laughing. “Alright, alright,” he raised his hands in a gesture for silence, “we shall answer your questions, at least when we can understand what it is you are asking.” He stepped back once more to tangle his fingers with the blond’s, who could see a pleased smile on his face, likely that he no longer was forced to do so covertly.

The chaos subsided with grumbles, Kíli turned to the only other dwarrow who had remained calm. “Nori, perhaps it would be an opportune moment to have a round of that mead.”

Nori chuckled. “Indeed, your Highness. Mead will be an excellent _lubricant_ for such a conversation.” Fíli flushed at the salacious emphasis Nori had given to that particular word.

Even more so once Balin added, “I’m certain they will be looking for quite a different one after we leave them alone.”

“Balin!” Dori was scandalized by the words, but the advisor only laughed at his expression.

Neither Fíli nor Kíli, though the bolder of the two brothers, had ready words to respond to such teasing from their elders. Fíli glanced over to see that even Kíli’s ears were pinked from embarrassment. Rather than engage them, they quickly busied themselves with locating seating.

With most of the dwarrows pitching in, it was not long before they were all seated in chairs or sprawled on the floor before the fire. Along with the cask, Bofur and Nori had provided pewter tankards from _somewhere_ and all were armed with mead.

For some time no one spoke, sipping or guzzling their mead while enjoying the quiet moment where for once, there were no unfamiliar challenges to meet. No orcs, no goblins, no dragon, and no enchanted gold at long last. It somewhat reminded Fíli of their pleasant night in Bilbo’s home when their journey still seemed that it would be not _easy_ , but straightforward at least.

“So how long have you two been going at it?” Folk who mistook Ori for being naive or innocent had never taken the time to allow him to relax in their presence.

The blond had seen Kíli endure teasing from their scholarly friend while he was still taking bedsport with others, but it was new hearing Ori’s blunt remarks directed at _him_. Still, he couldn’t help joining in the laughter which broke out with Dori’s scolding about proper behaviour when speaking to royalty.

“Ease up on the lad, Dori,” Dwalin said with clear exasperation. “No one around to see or be scandalized, aside from _you_.”

Fíli was quick to add, “please, all of you, do not treat us any differently when we have private moments like this. We are still Fíli and Kíli, whatever new titles and duties we may hold.”

“Certainly you did not treat Thorin with this sort of reverence,” Kíli pointed out.

“But that was different,” Dori protested, “he did not rule in Erebor. He was never even crowned.”

“Neither have I, not yet. I would rather not find myself as King only to lose my friends.”

Bofur grinned broadly. “You can’t tell us that lad, and then refuse to answer Ori’s question.”

“I – uh – we -,” Fíli stammered.

“Long enough,” Kíli spoke with a touch of smugness.

“That doesn’t tell us anything!” Glóin complained.

Bifur spoke up next. “Was it before we reached the mountain, or after?”

Dori. “Have you engaged in a proper courtship?”

“Which one of you lads is more - _receptive?_ ” Bofur asked with a waggle of his expressive brows. “Have you had sex yet?”

All of the questions had Fíli suspicious. “Why do you want to know? Surely you are not that invested in the details of our relationship...?”

“They wouldn’t be, if there weren’t half a dozen bets riding on the answers,” Bilbo spoke up for the first time. “I believe I would have won a few of them had I wagered.”

“Bilbo – you knew?”

“All that time spent with the pair of you in the library, and you thought I just _happened_ to absent myself at convenient times? Stealth is useful for more than just burglary, as is a hobbit’s natural soft-footedness. You raised my suspicions when you began sleeping curled around each other like pups, and then I happened to stumble across an...intimate moment.”

Kíli chuckled ruefully. “I suppose we should have known. Why did you never mention it?”

Bilbo shrugged in answer. “When such things are kept quiet in the Shire, there’s a good reason for it. Relationships between siblings – well, it was only when I saw the Company’s reaction that it was confirmed they were not the reason for your silence.”

Fíli seized the opportunity to move the conversation away from he and Kíli. “Are such relationships banned in the Shire?”

Their burglar hummed,” there’s certainly no law against it, but... In the Shire, we are all rather closely related already. With the problems that can come along with children from such unions, it’s become a custom to at least _attempt_ to avoid engaging anyone closer than a second cousin; though at times that requires a lot of research folk don’t wish to bother with before their bedsport. Such things are fodder for _weeks_ of gossip.

“We hobbits are quite open about sexual matters, but when close relations play without realizing it, it’s expected that whatever they have will stop when it’s discovered. It’s rather breaking taboo to continue.”

“So do hobbits – it isn’t that they’re both lads that’s a problem?” Bofur wanted to know.

“Of course not! Many hobbits do eventually marry to have children, but it’s common to bed down with anyone who happens to strike your fancy in your tweens. And others choose never to marry.”

“Oh. Excellent!”

Unusually, Bofur halted after that brief exclamation. From watching Kíli these past weeks, Fíli at least had a clue as to why Bofur was usually quiet. He was _interested_ in their hobbit. The blond grinned to himself. He hoped it worked out for them, because from the faint blush Bilbo wore, he might return the interest.

“Thank you, Bilbo,” the archer smiled softly at him.

“For what?”

“You said nothing before because you were protecting us, were you not?”

Bilbo ducked his head at the gratitude. “You would have done the same for me.”

“I know what you’re up to,” Glóin grumbled. “You’re trying to avoid answering our questions, but we’ve got bets to settle.”

Fíli turned to arch an eyebrow at him. “And why should we satisfy the curiosity of those who have been betting on us?”

A chorus of protests met his question, Glóin the loudest. “But there’s money on it!”

“Not mine,” Fíli stared him down. “I am unsure if I want to help you profit off of things which _should_ be private.”

No matter what the others tried to bribe, blackmail, or threaten them with, neither Fíli nor Kíli would reveal the details. Eventually, even Glóin surrendered, vowing he would find out somehow. Most were more good-natured in their defeat, fetching refills of their tankards and settling down to speak excitedly about the future, now they had one again.

Bombur, of all dwarrows, was particularly vehement about seeing his family again. He was proud that his two eldest had volunteered to journey with Dís, though fearful for their safety. Bifur was near as excited, grinning because he would be able to speak to his cousin’s children without difficulty for once. The old warrior loved being ‘Uncle Bifur’ and making toys for the chef’s large family, and the dwarflings adored him right back.

Fíli promised himself to watch that reunion for the expressions upon hearing Bifur speak.

They were not the only ones. All of the Company spoke of family and friends they looked forward to seeing once more. Only Bilbo was quiet on that topic, though he laughed and joked readily enough. The blond only hoped he wasn’t seeing a sign that Bilbo would not agree to remain in Erebor for any length of time. He had become so much a part of their family, losing him back to the Shire for good would be a blow.

Having all of the Company gathered like this made it a good opportunity to broach a much more serious topic, loathe as he was to disrupt the merry mood. “Can I ask for a moment of your attention?” He stood and waved his hands for silence, though it took time for conversation to die down entirely.

“Is it time?” Nori looked lost for a moment before his usual mocking smirk was pasted on to his face. With Fíli’s nod of confirmation, he stood to join him in front of the fire. From the corner of his eye, Fíli caught Kíli’s clasp of the thief’s shoulder in support.

“I have asked Nori to accept a very dangerous position to support my rule. Initially, we had thought to keep this information from all of you as well, but...”

“It just would not be believable, not after all we have experienced together,” Kíli finished for him.

Nori took up the narrative next. “I need all of you to help me keep this story together, it could mean my life if any of those I’ll be speaking with find out I’m working for Fíli. You all know my reputation as a thief, how little time I spent around Dori and Ori in order to protect them. I’ll have to go back to that life, that anonymity for my own safety.  And possibly yours as well.

“In private, we can be how we ever were. But as much as I hate it, in public you’ll have to disdain me.”

“The story we shall spread is that Nori signed on with the Company, but left in Bree to pursue his own interests,” Fíli told them. “He rejoined us after the battle to garner the glory that came from being one of the few to join in a quest that most thought foolish.” The story had been built carefully between the three of them and Dwalin. It had been the Guard Captain who pointed out that even he, prepared to think the worst of Nori as a thief, would not believe that he would manage to disgrace himself so thoroughly _after_ the quest. Not so much that he would be denied his reward and forced to return to his old lifestyle.

“But other dwarves _saw_ Nori fight in the battle,” Glóin protested. “How will they believe this story?”

The thief chuckled cynically. “If all of you do your part, that’ll be the easy thing. I’m going to change my hair slightly for one, and folk will believe anything if enough say that it’s true. What will be harder is convincing the kind of folk I’ll be spending time around. That’s why you all need to be _convincing_. Think about how you would feel if someone actually had abandoned the quest.”

“Please, I know how hard this is to do to someone you care for. But it will help keep Nori safe,” Ori pleaded.

Bifur looked pained, but was the first to stand in support. “If it will keep Nori safe, then that’s all we need to know.”

“What will Nori be doing that he has to be disgraced?” Bofur asked curiously.

Fíli winced. “We cannot share that information. Only a few people can know exactly where Nori goes or why, simply as a precaution.”

“It is not that we think you would spread the information deliberately,” Kíli reassured them. “We all know how oddly stone can carry echoes however, and Nori will be among those almost as cunning as he is in obtaining information.”

Nori nodded his head to Kíli with a pleased grin. “Lads, you know we wouldn’t ask this of you lightly. You think I want you to pretend to hate me? But what Fíli has asked of me is important. If you can’t handle acting hostile, ignoring or avoiding me will serve just as well.”

“If you had actually done what’s said of you, why wouldn’t you have been banished?” was the first reasoned objection, presented by Óin.

“That would be as a favour to Ori and I,” Dori spoke up for the first time. “We asked Fíli not to exile him, because we may not approve of his actions, but Nori _is_ still family.”

The protests continued for a time, but the Company was all but convinced already. When they at last gave in, they settled back into easy conversation, though the bright mood of earlier had been lost.

As was his habit, Bombur left for a time and returned with a welcome meal for them all. Once fed, the others trickled out in ones and twos; most to return to assisting with the reconstruction and Bifur to his cot in the healing tent.

Guilty as he felt for not moving to assist, both he and Kíli had been banned from heavy labour for the time being. Óin renewed the command as he left.

“Don’t either of you _think_ of leaving this room today, you’re both on light duty only and the walk was enough of a strain.”

At last he and Kíli were alone. Fíli watched, numb, as Kíli barred the door behind Bifur and Bofur. His brother returned and sat on the arm of Fíli’s large armchair. Fíli felt warm when the brunet bent over to press a kiss into his blond mane. It couldn’t have been easy to remain leaning as he was, but Kíli kept his nose buried in Fíli’s hair.

“Finally, we’re truly alone,” Kíli breathed. “We’ll need to think of a proper way to thank the Company.”

Fíli smiled ruefully. “We could always settle their bets.”

“...perhaps not with that.”

The swordsman chuckled quietly, but it tapered off quickly. Emotional and physical exhaustion had been seeping into his bones since he learned of Thorin’s death with no chance for release. “I’m so tired, Kí.”

“I know, Fíli,” the brunet mumbled to the top of his head. “It’s early yet, but would you like to go to bed?”

“By the Maker, yes.”

Kíli stood and banked the fire before tugging Fíli to his feet. The blond stumbled in his wake, both leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind. Fíli only paused when he was down to his smalls, meeting Kíli’s sleepy smile with a flush. The thing between them was still so new...

“Whatever makes you most comfortable, Fí.”

The reassurance was enough to have him stripping entirely bare. Slipping into the cool, clean sheets was almost orgasmic, it had been so long since he’d been able to remove all his layers. Suddenly it was relaxing to have Kíli sliding in beside rather than a matter for hesitance. He rolled in and pushed the brunet onto his back so he could curl into his brother’s side, pillowing his head on Kíli’s shoulder and tangling their legs. His entire body all but melted into Kíli. At last he could nose into the curve of Kíli’s neck and breath deep of his wild scent.

He had intended to speak with Kíli for a time, but the soft mattress, warm furs, and comfort of Kíli’s leaner frame against his quickly sent him into a deep slumber.

__________

Fíli woke much later that night, alarmed, when he felt his pillow start shaking under him. He lay still for a half-dozen heartbeats as his sleep-fuddled mind tried to sort through the idea that his pillow couldn’t possibly be moving. Slowly it dawned on him that it was _Kíli_ who was shaking, crying hard but trying not to wake him.

“Kí?” his voice was hoarse with sleep.

The broad chest under his palm hitched. It seemed Kíli had stopped breathing entirely, probably in an effort to pretend he wasn’t crying. What Fíli did not know was _why_.

“Kíli, I know you’re awake, kandûn-ê.[1] Why do you try to hide your tears?”

His attempts to hold them back caused little hiccoughs in his breathing when Kíli responded. “I didn’t – mean – to wake you – nadad. I know – how worn – you are.

“I will _never_ be so tired that I would care more for slumber than learning why you weep. You have been an immense support to me over these difficult weeks; allow me to be the same for you.”

Fíli could tell from the rough-silk scratch that Kíli was shaking his head in denial even as he choked on a sob. Now he was really beginning to worry for his brother. Never before had he refused to share what was bothering him when they had the privacy to do so. Nor was it like him to cry.

“Kí? What’s wrong?” Some of his anxiety leeched into his voice. “Is...is it something _I’ve_ done?”

His plaintive question had Kíli trying to sit up, futile with his stocky brother curled over his chest. With a grunt he fell back onto the mattress, but his arms wrapped around Fíli which the blond counted as a small victory.

“Of _course_ it’s nothing you’ve done.” He sighed heavily. “I...I had not wished to add another burden upon you, not when you already carry so many.”

“Oh, Kí.” Fíli curled himself more tightly around his brother. “You could never be a burden to me.” Prodding Kíli in his sensitive ribs, he continued, “and you are courting me, are you not? Does that not mean that we are to share each other’s troubles, as couples should?”

“Of course. You’re right, Fí, I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one to apologize, for being so caught up that I didn’t notice that you were struggling, hiding it for my sake. What is it that woke you tonight?”

Kíli sighed once more. “Nothing. And yet – everything. I woke a little while ago and was thinking of how welcome a gift these chambers are. That led me to wonder which ones Amad had lived in, and...Thorin. It all came crashing in on me at once. He died, and I never had a chance to say goodbye. Never had an opportunity to reconcile with him over his words spoken in madness. That, after weeks of uncertainty?” His breath hitched as tears began again.

The blond could feel his own welling up in his eyes, on the verge of spilling over. “Thorin told me before he passed that he was so proud of us both. I wish he had the time to say more.”

Fíli choked and buried his face in Kíli’s shoulder as his hot tears overflowed. He had intended to be a comfort to Kíli, but turned out to be sorely in need of the same. “I miss him. Somehow, I remember one of the first times I ever met Uncle. He travelled more when we were very small. I was five, and you’d been born not two weeks before. Amad, Adad, and I were just sitting down to dinner when he crashed through the door, filthy and panting, and demanded to know if he was late.

“Amad replied, ‘no, nadad, not late. But if you think I’m letting you sit down to table in that state, you’re mad. Go wash up before you join us.’ It took him half the meal to realize she had already given birth, and that only because you began to cry.

“It turned out that he’d gotten so badly lost returning from Dunland that he’d lost track of the days.”

His story managed to draw a watery chuckle from the archer. “He never did learn to manage his sense of direction. I only had to follow his lead on _one_ hunt before I learned what a poor idea that was. He almost stranded us in a marsh because he was so intent on following a deer track.”

“Ah, he was so _proud_ of how quickly you picked up hunting and tracking. When we were working at the forge he would mention it from time to time.” Fíli sighed. “I know he got after you to learn more traditional dwarven skills, but he admired the way you fought for lessons in those that aren’t. I sometimes wished to do the same, despite my training as first heir.

“Truly?” Kíli sounded like he wasn’t sure whether to believe. “Because whenever we were on patrol, Thorin spoke at length of how dedicated you were to your duties and how skillful your smithwork was. He had complete confidence, leaving the settlement in your hands.

“Sometimes it made me wish my best use to our people was a more conventional path. _Why_ could Thorin never praise us directly?”

“I don’t know, Kí. Sometimes I could read it from his face, at least when I allowed myself to believe it was not merely my wish instead of reality. One of the times I was truly _certain_ was the day I showed him the pair of scamasax I had forged.”

“Myself as well, I saw his pride when I managed to find game one particularly harsh winter. Perhaps he never showed it openly because he felt a King should be more detached, even from his kin.” Fíli could feel him shift to swipe at the tracks of tears which must still be trickling down his cheeks. “I always knew he _loved_ me, just not if he approved of my choices.”

Fíli nodded his agreement, sobs starting again. “Oh, Kí. How am I supposed to rule without his guidance? It was not intended I would do so for many years yet.”

When Kíli’s answer came, it was through his own fresh tears, but Fíli could hear his confidence. “You can do it, Fí. You watched Thorin for years. And you will be facing a very different political situation than the Ered Luin. Thorin would have faced the same new challenges as you.”

Almost against his will Fíli found himself reassured. Kíli was right, but it seemed it should not be so easy to move on without their uncle. As his heirs, he had been a stern, steady presence throughout their lives.

“Kí, he was _supposed_ to be here for us.” Salty tears dripped down his long nose onto his brother’s chest.

“I know, Fí. I miss him too.” He sniffed before continuing. “For the first week, mostly I was just relieved to still have _you_. When you blacked out...I panicked. That burst of terror was all that kept me on my feet until the end. Seeing you sprawled there, covered in Uncle’s blood... Please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

Kíli rolled in Fíli’s hold to wrap around him like a clinging vine. “I don’t care, nadad. Lie to me, or promise that I can follow you.”

“No.” The blond struggled to breathe through the vice of Kíli’s arms and the weight of Kíli’s plea.

“Please. Put yourself in my place, amrâl.[2] What if it had been me lying on the ground with you unsure if I was going to live? Would you not wish to join me?”

Reluctantly Fíli conceded, “I would. But Kí, we _won_. Hopefully we will never be in such a situation again.”

“I pray to Mahal that it is so. But, Fíli, will you at least give me your word that whatever happens, we will be together?”

“I would have it no other way, nadad-ê, amrâl-ê, kuyl-ê.[3] I swear before our Maker that I will stay by your side, whatever may come.” And he sealed his pledge by using Kíli’s nakhrâm [4] instead. The sacred name given to every dwarf at their birth by Mahal himself, and told only to their most trusted.

Kíli’s tight clutch loosened with the evident seriousness of Fíli’s vow. “Thank you,” and concluded their bargain by whispering Fíli’s nakhrâm back. “Thank you, thank you.”

Fíli, able to draw a full breath once more, easily allowed himself to be guided as Kíli unwrapped an arm to tilt his chin up. The kiss was so soft and soothing that he actually began to cry once more at its sweetness.

Lying there in the darkness left when their last candle burned down, Fíli felt bold enough to reach out and trace every inch of the scars which marked Kíli’s skin. Perhaps mapped in darkness, they would not be so concerning in the cold light of day. For the most part, Kíli lay still and allowed the blond to manipulate him as he pleased. He had done his worrying on the battlefield as the swordsman had lain so eerily still, and during his accounting as Óin cleaned and bandaged each while repeatedly assuring him Fíli would live.

The sole exception was when he reached out and traced the scar which bisected Fíli’s eyebrow and trailed off to his ear, first with fingers and then lips. “You look even more dashing now, razdûn-ê.[5] I am glad I spoke when I did, you already had enough admirers back ho- back in the Khagal’abbad.”[6]

The blond startled back. “I did?”

“Of course, Fí. You’re gorgeous, kind, skilled...” the archer snorted. “Of course. You didn’t notice _my_ feelings, and we lived together. Why would you notice that I stopped hunting with Indra for months because she would not cease speaking of how handsome you are, of how she hoped you would show an interest, when already my heart had chosen you. You have no idea how I feared that someone else would catch your eye before I could...”

It was Fíli’s turn to clutch at the brunet. “I’m sorry I did not see you sooner. I’m not saying it would have happened, but what would you have done if I had chosen another?”

“I would have hidden my feelings away as best I could and declared myself to be craft-wed. If I could not be with you, I would still stand by your side.” Fíli couldn’t see him, but Kíli’s voice betrayed his rueful smile. “You know how it is with dwarves: we choose only once and our hearts will not be swayed.”

“I know.” The blond pushed his face up to catch his brother in another soft kiss. “But Kíli, if you had not said anything, I would not have chosen another. I would have followed Thorin’s path. What I said in Esgaroth holds true; I belong with my brother. I love you, Kí.”

Kíli choked on a laughing sob. “I love you too. For how many years do you think we shall go back to that one declaration?”

Fíli had to laugh as well. “I don’t know. When it stops being true?” He would have gone on had his jaw not cracked on a wide yawn.

“Sleep, Fí.” There was a grin in his voice when the archer continued, “you’ll need your rest, for now that we have privacy, I intend to lay you down and learn every inch of your beautiful body tomorrow. I have a promise to keep after all: to learn what makes you moan...”

His mere words drew an involuntary soft sound from Fíli’s throat as heat surged through him at the thought. “How am I supposed to sleep now?” he complained teasingly, even as he felt slumber dragging him down.

“Tomorrow, amrâl,” his brother whispered into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] my wolf
> 
> [2] love
> 
> [3] my brother, my love, my life
> 
> [4] inner name
> 
> [5] my sun
> 
> [6] Ered Luin; Blue Mountains


	22. In Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili take advantage of their newfound privacy for something _else_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's smut ^^ This chapter is explicit. Bottom Fili.

It was the rosy light of dawn funneled down the mirrored shafts into their chambers which woke Fíli. With how far north they were and the time of year, he judged it to be somewhere around eight of the clock.

Turning on to his side, Fíli propped himself up on his elbow, revelling in his ability to do so without pain. At some point during the night he and Kíli had untangled from each other, but the brunet lay close by his side. The soft dawn light flattered Kíli’s olive skin, and allowed the blond to study his curves and planes, tugging down the blanket a little at a time to bare more of that skin. It was either the movement of the furs or the chill in their room which eventually caused Kíli to stir, batting at Fíli’s hand as his eyes blinked open.

“Mmm, Fí,” his sleepy smile was bright. “That’s a nice sight to wake up to.”

The blond chuckled. “I know I enjoyed the view as you slept.”

Kíli’s smile broadened and he lifted an arm to pull Fíli down into a kiss, closed mouth the only concession to the fact they had not yet cleaned their teeth.

Fíli relaxed into the easy kiss, a pleasure he had not expected from their new relationship. Somehow it was the small moments which continued to surprise him. With a last peck, he relaxed into Kíli’s side, intending to bask in the warmth for a time.

“Don’t get too comfortable just yet, nadad. I need to relieve myself, and perhaps clean up a little. Would you be interested in taking advantage of our privacy this morning?”

Fíli found himself flushing all over with heat at Kíli’s question. “Of course, nadad.” With that for incentive he was quick to squirm out of bed himself, yelping when his bare feet met cold stone. “Rugs for the floor are definitely a priority once we have trade routes established.”

Kíli just laughed and pushed him ahead into the bathing room. “I see how it is, you’re getting demanding kingly ideas already. Plain stone is for peasants, you need rugs to shield your royal toes.”

The swordsman snorted at the idea of becoming a spoiled royal. “Truly, it _is_ an outrageous demand. Tell me _you_ enjoy walking on floors this cold.”

“Of course I don’t,” Kíli responded, moving to the privy, “but in future I intend to keep a pair of thick socks to hand.”

“Good idea,” Fíli chuckled, turning to look at Kíli’s leaner nude form. Eyeing him up and down he added sarcastically, “you’ll be _incredibly attractive_ in nothing but your socks.”

The brunet waggled his bottom at Fíli as he looked back over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out. “Does that mean you find me attractive right now?”

Their banter made Fíli daring. As Kíli turned from the privy and bent to retrieve a bucket and cloth thoughtfully stocked already, he stepped closer and grabbed a handful of firm muscle. “You do have _some_ appeal. Particularly given my curiosity with how you’re going to live up to your promise.”

Adeptly he dodged Kíli’s playful return swipe, but now that he had allowed himself to realize just how attractive he found his brother, he was rather distracted from his own ablutions. His mind was too busy concocting possibilities, though with his lack of experience he had very little fuel for his fantasies. Instead he was caught up in watching the play of muscles under the archer’s skin as he shifted, the trickles of water over his body, and his fresh scars.

Fíli almost wanted to call them ugly, but only because they were a reminder of the battle. In practice, he was aching to trace over every one with lips, teeth, and tongue. He wasn’t so occupied that he didn’t notice Kíli’s little grin at a particular vial on the shelves, though he didn’t know why that one had drawn his attention.

Despite his distraction, Fíli finished refreshing himself not long after the brunet. He turned to his grinning brother who was lounging against the doorframe, mysterious vial in hand. Seeing that the blond was ready, Kíli crooked a finger in a commanding gesture, beckoning Fíli to step closer and pulling him into a deep kiss once he was in range.

“Mmm, minty fresh,” Kíli laughed against his lips, kissing him again before he could reply.

The light scratch of nails trailing up his spine had Fíli shivering and bucking his half-hard cock into Kíli’s firm thigh. “Bed,” he demanded when he mustered the self-control to pull away from Kíli’s consuming kisses.

“Your wish is my command, my King.” The way the archer purred the words had Fíli hardening further. “Lead on.”

Spread out across the soft furs, Fíli felt a flutter of apprehension through his excitement and arousal. Kíli looked _hungry_ , and beyond what they had already done he had no idea of what to expect. It had him biting his lip to stifle a whimper as Kíli crawled across the bed to plant a kiss above his navel.

Whether he really was that good at knowing Fíli’s thoughts, or he could tell from the tension in his muscles, Kíli spoke reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Fí. If I do anything you don’t like or you need a break, all you have to do is tell me. I never want to make you uncomfortable.” Hazel eyes met blue to show Kíli’s sincerity. “Alright to continue?”

Fíli nodded. “I trust you, Kí.” He tangled his fingers into Kíli’s thick chestnut hair as the other continued his slow trail of kisses upwards. The rough brush of stubble against skin and his own tawny pelt had him twitching, moaning when Kíli scraped teeth gently over the _unbroken_ side of his ribs.

“Mmm, you like that, Fí?”

He had to chuckle a little. “Apparently,” he trailed off into another moan when the brunet sucked a mark into the same spot. His fingers clenched more tightly into Kíli’s hair, flexing as though unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

It was even more intense when Kíli reached the small pink buds of his nipples. He arched up, pushing into Kíli’s mouth for more of that delicious sparking pleasure that had his shaft stone hard from nothing more than teasing.

“Fuck, Kíli. Why does that feel so amazing?”

“You’re sensitive here.” He nipped one lightly before kissing to soothe the sting. “Have you ever thought of getting them pierced?”

“I am _now_.” He would have to speak to Nál when she arrived. The dwarrowdam was particularly skilled with piercings and tattoos; she had done all of Dwalin’s.

He could feel Kíli’s grin against his skin. Long fingers teased up his sides as the archer switched to the other side. Fíli squirmed from the small contrast provided by an archer’s calluses, different on each hand.

Soon, he couldn’t take it anymore, oversensitized and leaking slick onto his stomach already. Fíli’s fingers tightened in Kíli’s hair to draw him up until the other was whining as well. He pulled steadily until he could lean up and catch his brother’s lips. He lost himself in the kiss, allowing it to calm him a little. If Kíli truly meant to explore his whole body, he would need that calm.

Groaning, Fíli reached up to run his hands over firm muscles, tugging Kíli down from hovering on his knees. The blond ground up into him, rubbing his shaft against Kíli’s, his leaking slick making it an easy slide.

“Easy, Fí,” Kíli moved away after only a few moments, Fíli whining at the loss. “If you come too soon, we might have to stop playing.”

Fíli grumbled but didn’t try to stop him. “I can’t do both?”

Kíli’s head thumped onto his shoulder as his brother laughed. “We could try if you want, but it’s likely you’d be too sensitive after your peak.”

“Really?”

“Most dwarrow I’ve heard of anyways. Do you think you can wait to find out if you’re one of the lucky few another time?”

He hummed in agreement, enjoying the path Kíli’s nails scraped down his back. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Kíli grinned against his neck, sucking another mark into the skin. The blond arched into it, finding that he enjoyed the slight sting and burn.

“If that’s visible above my collar, Kí, you’re answering the questions of the others.”

His answer was another mark bit just above his collarbone. “That would be irritating, but at the same time I kind of like the idea of all of them seeing that you’re _mine_.”

The blond whimpered quiet, deep in his throat from being _claimed_ like that. Still, he couldn’t just give in so easily. “Oh I am, am I?”

“Of course.” The archer pulled back to meet Fíli’s eyes. “At least I hope so, for I am entirely yours.”

How Kíli could go from sexual to sincere in a heartbeat... It made him melt. “I love you.” And this time he used the brunet’s nakhrâm [1] to emphasize his words. “I am yours.”

Hazel eyes came to rest on the scar cutting through his eyebrow. Kíli leaned in to brush his lips along it, much like the childhood custom of kissing small injuries better. “And yet I could have lost you,” he whispered.

Kíli paused there for a moment before shaking his head as if banishing his morose thoughts. He sat up to survey Fíli’s nude form, keen eyes taking in every new mark. “Let’s see if those scars are good for anything but making you even more gorgeous.”

Before Fíli could ask exactly what he meant, Kíli’s fingers were tracing along the scar his chestplate had left across his collarbone and over his shoulder. The gentle motion was almost a tickle, surprisingly sensitive. Oh so carefully, the brunet teased his nails along the edge.

“Fuck!”

“Bad?” Kíli asked immediately, halting his motions.

“No!” The blond’s hand darted out to grab Kíli’s wrist before he could move. “It’s good.”

Nails scraping a little harder, Kíli asked, “yeah? Still good?”

Fíli moaned and shivered, the sensation lighting up nerves all over his body.

Pleased, the brunet leaned down to lick along the ropy trail. It was different, but still pleasing. What _really_ had Fíli arching off the furs as a high keen built in his throat was his brother delicately nibbling along the scar. He thought he could climax from that alone if Kíli would only continue.

“Stop, Kí.” His grunted words had Kíli pulling back in alarm, a panicked expression on his face. “’S too good.”

With his explanation, panic smoothed into a contemplative look that had Fíli’s cock twitching. “I wonder if that sensitivity will remain as you heal?” the brunet mused almost to himself. He traced that scar with a fingertip one final time before moving on to the next.

The new stripes on Fíli’s right bicep received the same attentions. Though sensitive, it just wasn’t the same level of jolting excitement as his shoulder had been. The same was true for the forge burn scars littering his arms, fingers, and hands; though Fíli did release an embarrassing groan when Kíli sucked his pinky into his mouth to lave the burn there with his tongue.

“No, shut up,” he tried to command, opposite hand over his face to cover his blush.

Kíli was laughing when he released his right hand to speak. “What?” he asked, the very picture of innocence. “I never said anything.”

“You were going to,” Fíli grumbled.

Before he could worry too much, Kíli very neatly distracted him by tweaking a nipple and brushing his fingers across the strange half-circles left behind when Bolg’s mace had crushed his chestplate and forced his chainmail into his skin.

Fíli sucked in a breath, a sharp hiss, as his hand darted up to grasp Kíli’s wrist. “The bruise is still too deep.”

“Sorry, Fí.” Kíli switched his target, leaning in to kiss down the old scars on his belly.

“More, or less sensitive?” Kíli asked, nipping along the largest.

He pressed up into the brunet’s mouth and ran his hands over Kíli’s back. “Doesn’t matter, it feels good.”

The brunet hummed as he followed the scar down to suck along a hip bone, getting teasingly close to where Fíli was up and hard before skirting past to the scars high on the inside of his left thigh.

“Oh, fuck, Kí,” Fíli groaned. His legs automatically spread further to give the brunet more room to work. He didn’t know if it was the scars or the location, but it was so _much_ more sensitive. Kíli actually had to pin his legs to still Fíli’s writhing, the blond whining and moaning from the sensations surging through him.

At least this time Kíli moved away before he got Fíli too close to the edge. He only lingered briefly at the scars on Fíli’s opposite knee. “Only one left on your front.”

Fíli stared blankly for the moment it took him to tear his mind away from his groin and realize what Kíli meant. He burst into laughter when it registered, looking down at his brother kneeling at his feet. The blond let him lift his leg to fit his teeth over the marks he had left on Fíli’s ankle as a dwarfling. Kíli scraped them over Fíli’s ankle bone as he pulled back to grin down at his sun-bright brother.

The blond grinned back. “I have to say, Kí, I like this use of your teeth much better.”

“Oh really?” he arched a chestnut brow. “Then you’d best turn over. I promised to pay attention to every inch of you after all.”

It wasn’t an easy choice to comply. Part of Fíli wished to ask Kíli to get him off now, to tell him he’d had enough teasing. But the rest of him was far too curious. He’d had no idea how many places on his body could be manipulated to cause pleasure.

Rolling over, he had some cause to regret his agreement, wriggling to get comfortable with his hard cock. “Only the first day, and already we’ll need to clean the furs.”

Kíli chuckled a little at Fíli’s half-hearted complaint. “Promise, this will be worth it.”

Instead of moving to the old scar on his shoulder blade, Kíli’s hands took firm hold of his shoulders. Fíli’s head dropped on to the furs with a groan when his brother dug strong thumbs into the knotted muscles. The blond all but melted into the bed as Kíli slowly worked the tension from every inch of his back. His erection remained, but the need to do anything about it was far less urgent while drifting in warmth and comfort under Kíli’s skilled hands. The brunet hummed as he worked, gentle and familiar songs from growing up in the Ered Luin. Except that they were both entirely nude, Fíli could almost close his eyes and pretend they were in their little cottage.

He roused a little as Kíli shifted down to his feet upon reaching the small of Fíli’s back, but resumed drifting as the archer’s strong hands began on his calves. His touch had Fíli’s lust building as Kíli’s hands moved upwards, fingers darting out to brush teasingly against sensitive spots. Once again, Fíli found his legs spreading instinctively as his desire grew.

Broad palms cupped his cheeks, massaging and spreading the firm muscle and allowing Kíli to blow teasingly along Fíli’s crack. The blond moaned and shivered at the sensation, surprising himself with the discovery that it excited him.

“You like that, Fí?” Kíli’s tone was considering. “I had suggested...” he trailed off.

The blond pushed his bottom up into Kíli’s hands, encouraging him to keep massaging even as he asked, “suggested what?”

Kíli continued somewhat hesitantly, “in the baths – I had joked about taking you. But we haven’t yet spoken about if you even find that appealing.”

“Taking me?” Fíli felt embarrassed at his general ignorance. How had he managed to never pick up more than the broad strokes about sex? It wasn’t like his people were shy about such matters, and he’d had plenty of opportunity to find liaisons as any dwarf could, seeking out companionship and pleasure even before their hearts chose. “You mean...inside me?” His cock twitched a little at the suggestion.

“Yes. But – we don’t have to, if you’re not interested. We could try it the other way around, or I could use my hands or mouth on you as we have been.”

“Do you enjoy being taken?”

“It’s not my favourite way to find pleasure. It’s not about me today though, and I enjoy it well enough.”

“What does it feel like?” Fíli asked, curious.

“It’s...” Kíli huffed. “I’m not sure I have the words.” His hand groped around on the bed for a moment. “Do you trust me to show you instead? We don’t have to go all the way.”

“Of course.”

Kíli grunted and he heard a cork pop before the sharp scent of pine filled the air. “Just tell me if anything feels wrong or uncomfortable.”

“And if it feels good?” Fíli teased.

He could hear the archer’s grin in his answer. “Well then, feel free to show your vocal appreciation.”

Fíli twitched when something cool and damp was poured into the valley between his cheeks. One of Kíli’s hands rested soothingly on his back as the other swiped up the liquid.

“It’s oil,” the brunet answered his unspoken question. “We need something slick so I can do this safely.”

“Do what...” his query choked off in a groan as oiled fingers traced around his entrance.

“If I’m to fit inside,” Kíli said calmly, as if his fingers didn’t have Fíli writhing as they traced around the oiled ring. “I need to loosen you up first.”

“Ohhhhh,” Fíli moaned. Like everything else that morning, it was unexpectedly good.

Given how responsive the blond was to his touch, it didn’t take Kíli long to stop teasing. The light strokes became a firm pressure massaging the small purse of muscle, relaxing it the same as he had the rest of his body. The tight ring gradually loosened under his touch until Kíli was able to slip the tip of his first finger in easily.

Fíli froze at the slight penetration. His brother remained still while he processed the feeling, the slight burn, struggling to decide if it was pleasurable or not. As he continued not to pull away, the brunet dared a tiny flickering push in and out, just enough to tease. It was enough to have Fíli jerking as if shocked, a moan building in his chest.

After his small motion, Kíli stilled once more, waiting to see if the reaction would be good or bad. He got his answer when Fíli bucked his hips up, trying to force Kíli’s finger deeper.

“Easy, Fí.” His other hand at the small of Fíli’s back prevented him from moving too far. “We have to go slow or it could hurt you.” Despite the blond’s obvious enjoyment, he still asked, “do you want to keep going?”

Frustrated by his caution, Fíli growled and bucked up again. “Kíli, I promise to tell you if anything is the _slightest_ bit uncomfortable. _Please_ , don’t stop. So far this feels _incredible_.”

He couldn’t see his brother, but somehow Fíli knew he was preening with the choice in words. The blond swiped blindly behind himself, managing to connect with Kíli’s thigh. “Stop grinning like that, you don’t need to look so proud of yourself.”

Kíli snorted. Rather than reply verbally, he twisted his finger in Fíli’s hole and wrung a whimper from him. He kept up his gentle motions, finger penetrating a little deeper each time as the others traced around the outside of the tight ring. “Feel good, Fí?” Kíli asked, kissing his neck and shoulders, sucking more marks into the pale skin.

“Oh Mahal, yes. Keep going.” Fíli moaned as his hips made little jerking movements under Kíli’s hands. He could feel the brunet starting to tug at the ring, forcing it to stretch just that little bit farther. With that came the same slight burn as the initial penetration, but it only served to enhance the pleasure.

“Think you’re ready for a second?” the brunet asked, pressing lightly with another finger lined up with the first.

“Uhhh, yessss,” Fíli whimpered as the added pressure sparked nerves all the way up his spine. He squirmed under Kíli’s hand with the slow, steady push of the second finger inside. The stretch felt _amazing_. “Why have we not done this yet?”

The archer laughed, jostling his fingers inside and making him twitch. “I would say the lack of lubricant might have something to do with it. Oh, and the armies that had us under siege.” His tone was light, not wishing to bring back prior fears in the midst of such an enjoyable activity.

“We can make up for lost time now,” Kíli promised. His fingers kept twisting and scissoring inside Fíli’s slick channel. “I think we’ll start – here,” and they brushed against something inside that had Fíli arching off the bed.

“Wha-what is that?” he gasped. The sensation was almost like lightning branching out through his nerves, jolting pleasure up his spine.

“You’d have to ask Óin if you want a name for it,” Kíli brushed his fingers across once more. “All _I_ know is that for me, it was the only worthwhile part about being the receptive partner.”

Fíli chuckled between moans. “It seems that is not the case for me, nadad. For I enjoy this very much indeed, even without that spot.”

The brunet stroked up and down his sweaty back. “I’m pleased to hear that, amrâl.[2] Do you think you’re ready for a third?”

He stretched like a cat, tensing and relaxing each muscle as he spread out across the furs, enjoying the gentle touch and slow stroking of his insides. “I think so. Mmm,” he arched into Kíli’s hand. “How many do I need before I can take you?”

Kíli hummed thoughtfully. “Usually three, but you’re so tight, razdûn-ê.[3] I was thinking it might be best to stretch you to four.”

The swordsman’s head thumped down from where he had twisted to look at his brother while asking the question. “As nice as this is, I want to feel you inside me, Kí.”

“Fuck, Fí,” Kíli groaned even as he slowly pushed a third finger past the oiled ring of the blond’s entrance. “Don’t _say_ things like that. You make me wish to discard caution entirely and replace my fingers with my cock right now.”

In spite of his claims, Kíli’s fingers maintained the same methodical, gentle stretching as he had all along. It warmed Fíli to know that whatever Kíli’s own desires, his first concern was always _Fíli’s_ comfort.

“You can go a little faster, Kí. I’m not going to break.”

Kíli huffed a little but took him at his word. His fingers pushed and twisted more firmly, brushing against Fíli’s pleasure spot at irregular intervals to make Fíli writhe and gasp under him. By the time Fíli felt Kíli’s smallest finger tracing around the oiled ring he was panting, tendrils of hair stuck to his shoulders as he quaked with feelings of pleasure like nothing he’d ever known before. His hips were rolling up continuously, shoving himself back onto Kíli’s fingers. That final finger slipped in easily with a long groan from the blond.

“Don’t, Kí,” he asked breathlessly.

Fíli realized what that must have sounded like when Kíli went entirely rigid.

“What’s wrong, Fí? Have I hurt you?”

“Nothing like that, kandûn-ê.[4] I just can’t wait anymore to feel you.”

“Are you sure?” Even as Kíli questioned his surety, the blond scented pine afresh and heard the slick sounds and muffled moan that meant Kíli was preparing himself. “It could hurt.”

“I don’t care, Kí. It would be worth it.”

He whimpered when Kíli carefully withdrew his fingers, leaving his hole fluttering closed around empty air. “Roll over, Fí.”

“But...”

A hand on his hip stilled his protest. “I have no intention of stopping here, amrâl. But I want to see your face when we do this for the first time.” Gentle hands encouraged him to turn onto his back.

As soon as he was settled, Kíli kissed him deeply and confused him by stretching up over his head. “Lift your hips, Fí.” Kíli held a pillow up for explanation. “This will make things easier.”

Fíli wasn’t entirely certain how, but he went along with Kíli’s request. The position felt strange, hips elevated above his head, but it certainly wasn’t uncomfortable. Looking down the length of his body gave him a good look at his own thick flushed shaft and the glossy smear on his belly from the leaking slick. He felt exposed, laid bare and held up for Kíli’s appraisal. From the brunet’s expression as he settled between Fíli’s spread legs, he was more than pleased by the view.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to go all the way with this,” Kíli pointed out a final time. Fíli was about to curse at him about getting on with it when he saw the tiny smile on his brother’s lips.

“Shut up and fuck me, Kí.” He grinned back up at his brother as Kíli’s smile widened. His heart was pounding with anticipation as Kíli tucked his knees under Fíli’s spread legs, one hand on the blond’s chest and the other grasping his length to line up with Fíli’s clenching hole.

They both moaned in unison as Kíli rocked into Fíli achingly slowly, deeper with every slick push. Fíli’s bright eyes, blue only a thin ring around his blown pupils, closed in pleasure. Feeling Kíli’s length filling him was like nothing he had ever expected. When at last Kíli was buried to the hilt, his hips flush with Fíli’s, the blond could feel his racing pulse deep inside. Opening his eyes, Fíli smiled at the look of utter bliss on his brother’s face.

Reaching up an arm, Fíli hooked an arm around the back of Kíli’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. When it broke, he didn’t release his hold, keeping Kíli’s forehead against his own as they shared breath. It was an opportunity for Fíli to savour being as close to Kíli as possible, knowing he would never lay himself bare to anyone else in this way.

“Can I move, nadad?” Kíli’s voice held all the shaking strain of remaining still, strain which somehow showed only in the sweat beading on his flushed olive skin.

Feeling slightly wicked, Fíli rotated his hips, enjoying the way Kíli’s cock dragged along his passage. Kíli’s head thumped down on his shoulder with a whimper, and he could feel his brother trembling at last. “You can move, Kí,” he released him.

Though he knew that Kíli must have wished to fuck into him with abandon, the brunet’s first thrust was slow and deep. The slick glide of his brother’s shaft on his rim made it Fíli’s turn to tremble. The second slow withdrawal was followed by a quick plunge which jostled Fíli hard enough that his legs wrapped around Kíli reflexively, crying out when Kíli brushed squarely past that particular spot inside.

“Fuck, Kí, right there!”

Kíli grasped his hips firmly to anchor him in place, keeping to the same measured pace and sending stars bursting behind Fíli’s eyes every time he thrust. Fíli knew he would have fingertip bruises to show for it later, but it felt too good to care.

“Fíli, you’re so tight! I’m not – not going to last, razdûn-e. You feel so good,” Kíli groaned.

“Neither am – aaaah – I.”

Still thrusting, Kíli leaned down to kiss him. His hands released their grip on the blond’s hips to wind around his shoulders instead, bringing Fíli with him when he sat up.

Fíli sobbed as the angle as well as his own weight served to drive Kíli even deeper. Now Kíli fucked into him in short, hard thrusts as he rocked his hips with the motion. Feeling so full, so connected...it was overwhelming. He clung hard to Kíli as he unravelled quickly under the dual assault of the hard shaft within and the friction of his own prick rubbing against Kíli’s coarse belly hair.

“I love you so much, Fí,” Kíli mumbled into his sweaty skin before biting another mark into the junction between neck and shoulder.

And that was enough to send Fíli plunging over the edge with a wail, coating both their chests with his thick seed as Kíli fucked him through it. He scarcely noticed when Kíli stiffened with a groan as he reached his own peak, too lost in wave after wave of pleasure.

He slumped farther into Kíli when he finished, overbalancing the brunet and sending them both sprawling over the soft furs in a fit of sated giggles. Neither moved beyond minor adjustments for comfort, not even when Kíli softened enough to slip out. Fíli whined a little at the sensation of seed trickling from his hole. He knew he must look absolutely filthy and debauched, but the thought was strangely appealing in his post-climax haze.

“Can we do this again soon?” he asked muzzily. He was tempted just to allow himself to drift off once more, he was that relaxed, though he had duties to attend to that day.

Kíli chuckled. “Of course, Fí. I am always _at your service_ , my King.”

The blond sighed contentedly as his brother’s fingers smoothed his hair back from his sweaty face and stroked soothingly along his back. Before he could surrender to the sleep that dragged at his limbs however, soothing changed to prodding.

“Stop, Kí, I’m comfortable.”

“You won’t be if we wake glued together like this. We should clean up a little, then you can go to sleep.”

Fíli grumbled a little, but conceded to his brother’s logic. Even if he knew that his duties would call to him and he would not be going back to bed. Gingerly, he crawled off the mattress, careful not to smear any of the seed leaking from him across the furs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] inner name
> 
> [2] love
> 
> [3] my sun
> 
> [4] my wolf


	23. Welcome and Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New lives inhabit the mountain, while others are laid to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gone back to edit chapter 20 to more accurately reflect the timeline of the story, and to add a little more explanation. 
> 
> These next few chapters I will be drawing somewhat from the traditions of Judaism for the dwarven funeral ceremony and preparations, but modifying them to fit with the way I picture dwarves and the world of Middle Earth. I apologize if my alterations offend anyone, that is not my intent. If that is the case, I would be happy to work with you to better honour the traditions of Judaism.

The area set aside for communal meals was carefully organized chaos when they reached it. Bombur was in his element, coordinating the efforts of a half-dozen other cooks from the Iron Hills and Laketown. Fíli had intended to take his place in line like everyone else and use the meal as opportunity to gauge how folk felt about living in the mountain, but he and Kíli had scarce taken two steps into the room when his hoped for obscurity vanished. He just hoped that any awkwardness in his stride would be ascribed to healing injuries.

“Fíli!” Tilda was one of the first to react, running to greet them and throwing her arms around his waist joyfully before doing the same to Kíli. Fíli chuckled. He had enjoyed the company of Bard’s youngest over the days they had been guests. At times her enthusiasm had even managed to distract somewhat from his fears for his brother.

“Tilda!” And there was Sigrid, struggling to extract herself from the knot of busy cooks. “I told you, he’s King now! You _cannot_ greet him so disrespectfully.” She attempted to keep her scolding quiet, but as she was halfway across the room, her words carried. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, not with all eyes drawn by Tilda’s shout.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” Sigrid apologized with a graceful curtsey upon reaching them. “Tilda,” she whispered, elbowing her sister into a wobbling curtsey of her own. “My sister is rather excitable, and that grateful that you’re allowing us to stay for the winter.”

“Yes, thank you,” echoed Tilda, looking rather as if she’d like to hug him again.

As much as he wished he could wave off her formality as he had once before, all eyes were on him. It was a delicate balance to strike; maintaining authority while not placing too much distance between himself and others. New to the position and young, unfamiliar to most of those who surrounded him, Fíli was forced to err on the side of established protocol. “It’s quite alright, Miss Sigrid. Miss Tilda is young yet; our own dwarflings take time to master the demands of propriety as well. Providing housing is the least I could do after your family’s generosity. And I am pleased to see you well.”

“Welcome to Erebor, Miss Sigrid, Miss Tilda,” Kíli greeted them. “But where is Master Bain? I hope he was not injured?”

“No, Da kept him out of the fighting,” Sigrid replied. “He’s with Da now, helping people move into the halls.” She looked behind. “I have to go back to my station now, but if you’ll follow me we can provide trays for you both, your Majesty, your Highness.”

“Thank you, Miss Sigrid, but we can wait in line.” Here was some of the balance he wished for; Fíli would not use his position for unnecessary privileges.

She startled, but did not protest his decision as she rejoined the cooks, towing Tilda along behind before she could impose further on the new ruler. This time he could not hear her words, but her body language was clear enough.

Standing in line gave Fíli the opportunity to survey the room casually, glancing around as anyone would. Most of those present were smiling at him after the short exchange with the girls, or simply absorbed with food or conversation. There was one table however which regarded him with not just suspicion but outright disgust. He would have to task Nori and Dwalin with keeping an eye on them. Bard would need to be notified as well. It was disappointing to see such hostility from the folk of Esgaroth when he was doing his best to make amends.

Fíli supposed it was a naive hope, but he had already had many discussions since the battle with those who had been foes, and all had agreed to alliance if not friendship. Apparently those attitudes had not yet spread to all of their people.

Kíli elbowed him when they reached the front of the line. He returned from his thoughts to see Bombur and the other cooks bowing or curtseying to them.

“My thanks, but please, you need not cease your work for such gestures. I know there are many others yet to be fed,” Fíli waved off their courtesies. Surveying the food on offer, his blue eyes rounded in astonishment.

“Bombur, you must be some sort of culinary wizard! Where did you find such bounty?”

The cook flushed in pleasure and embarrassment at Fíli’s words. “Bilbo and N-his friend went exploring the mountain with a map Ori had found for them in the library. While the fabric and leather didn’t fare well with the heat and smoke from Smaug, the stores packed in earthenware jars or barrels seem to have done better. The meat spoiled, but we’ve got things like flour, pickled vegetables, and fruit packed in honey. Along with what the elves have already agreed to supply us with, we should be better off than we had expected this winter.”

Grinning, Kíli spoke. “We must remember to thank our thief and our burglar then. It seems they have found a way to steal from time itself.”

Bombur chuckled as he handed them trays packed with hearty stew, bannock, and preserved fruit. Another cook handed them mugs of ale; apparently that had survived the dragon as well.

While he wished to begin acquainting himself with the people of Laketown, or Dáin’s soldiers, in the end he chose an empty table to sit with Kíli. Fíli had no desire to make anyone too nervous to eat, something he had seen Thorin do with demeanor alone on many occasions. Better to wait until he could work alongside them and allow his actions to speak for him. It was easier to forget about rank and status with the distraction of hard labour.

The meal passed without incident, though Kíli pointed another potential source of trouble out when a clump of warriors from the Urâd Zirnul [1] strode in. A number of them had only hard stares from those from Esgaroth, in particular the table Fíli had noted earlier. It seemed another word to Dáin was required.

“We should caution Bilbo to stay with one of the Company for a time,” Kíli said, his eyes flickering over the features of all those wearing a glare. He would describe them for Ori to draw later, as they had done every time someone became too interested in the heirs of Durin.

“Why Bilbo?” Fíli took a moment to catch up to the direction of his brother’s thoughts, his own too focussed on means to improve cooperation. “You mean – because of the Arkenstone?”

Kíli nodded, swallowing his mouthful of stew before continuing. “If they’re that hostile to the folk of Laketown, they probably hold a greater antipathy towards our hobbit. I would hate to see Bilbo come to harm because of it.”

“Myself as well. I am sure any of our Company would be pleased to accompany Bilbo, though perhaps we should suggest it first to Bofur.”

The brunet laughed, “so, I was not the only one to see their interest in each other.”

Fíli flushed. “It was easier, now that I know the signs of it,” he admitted. He reached across the table to tangle his fingers with Kíli’s. “And I am going to be thankful for the learning for the rest of my life.”

It was Kíli’s turn to blush, though with his olive skin it mostly was noticeable at the tips of his ears. Fíli was delighted to note that the area around the new scar marking the bridge of Kíli’s nose also flushed pink. “Me too,” he whispered in response, gracing Fíli with an almost shy grin. And that was novel too, seeing his brash, outspoken brother so cautious about anything. It made Fíli feel special, knowing Kíli only acted in such a manner because of how much he cared.

* * *

The services for the dead of Laketown were short. Close to a third of the two hundred who had fought lost their lives in the battle. Poorly armoured, poorly trained...if they were separated from more experienced warriors, the orcs had hacked them to pieces. In his new role as leader of the refugees, Bard made a brief but heartfelt speech about their courage and sacrifice, praying that Eru would receive their spirits and send them on to whatever destiny awaited Men.

Fíli followed him, thanking the fallen and recognizing their sacrifices. He took the opportunity to speak to all of those from Laketown about their welcome to winter in the mountain, and dwarven aid to rebuild Dale in the spring (And Dale alone, unless it was aid in felling trees. Dwarves had no business on the Lake.) In front of the solemn gathering, he also pledged wergild to the families of those who had lost their lives before the Gates of Erebor.

It had not been an easy decision, and he, Balin, and Glóin had a number of arguments about it, but Fíli felt it was only right. He would not be doing the same for those lost to Smaug, as much as it pained him. Bard would look after his people when the funds from Dale were retrieved from the Treasury, and dwarven hands would aid in building their homes. The destruction caused by Smaug could truly have happened at any time.

The orcs though, that had been a feud with the dwarves and the dwarves alone. Borne of revenge and six long years of war, the men would not have faced that foe were it not for them. He had made the same offer of wergild to the elves, but Thranduil refused. Fíli had the sense he was ashamed of falling to the spell of the gold after disdaining Thorin for his greed. The Elvenking also had no desire to be further grateful or indebted to him.

After his speech, Fíli watched solemnly as the pyres were lit, Kíli a steady presence at his side. In recognition of the men-folk, both had donned the clothes they had been given in Esgaroth, now clean and properly mended. As the pyres burned down, folk trickled away in small clumps, the few dwarves and elves who had attended among the first to leave. The dead had been honoured; it was time to get on with business for those who had survived.

As a fellow ruler, Fíli and his shadow both remained with Bard until he too departed.

“Thank you,” Bard said simply before they parted ways.

There were many replies Fíli could have given, but he chose simply, “you are welcome.”

Ceremony concluded, Fíli and Kíli returned to their routine. The days after the funeral proceeded much as the days before it. Decisions had to be made regarding quartering and feeding folk, the Treasury and storerooms to be inventoried, meetings with the beginnings of his new Council, research with Ori regarding their oldest traditions... Nori also laid claim to Kíli for an hour or two every day to begin his training in the covert arts. The only difference was that Óin had cleared them both for moderate duties, and they had begun helping clear more space for refugees and those of Dáin’s warriors who would be quartered in Erebor until their own people returned. Of even more importance, they aided in the ritual washing and dressing of the dwarves who had died in the battle, and those left behind in the mountain the day the dragon came. They worked side by side with Dáin’s warriors, mourning their fallen comrades and forging ties with the other dwarves.

“Some of them are hoping to stay on permanently,” Dáin cautioned. “A few came to the Hills when Erebor fell, and the Lonely Mountain was not just a legend to those of the Khagal’abbad.[2] Others will want to be joining them when they hear Erebor’s been reclaimed.”

Fíli nodded. “I had expected as much. I would ask you to warn your folk though: I am forming alliances not just with Dale, but Mirkwood, Lothlorien, Rivendell, and hopefully the Shire. If they have a problem associating with men, elves, or hobbits, they had best not return. Provoking any other peoples into conflict will _not_ be tolerated.”

“I’ll certainly do so, but it may take time for it to truly sink in. We keep to ourselves in the Iron Hills, and you know how stone-stubborn some of our folk can be.”

Kíli chuckled. “Do we ever. We grew up with an excellent example of just that.”

“Also,” Fíli continued before he could dwell on the loss of Thorin, “let any nobles originally from Erebor know they will not immediately return to full noble privileges or reinstatement to any posts they held prior to the dragon.”

“They won’t like that at all,” Dáin warned, “and unhappy nobles are trouble.”

Fíli only shrugged. “If they have the position and support, yes. But they will not be permitted to return until we have begun to settle those returning from the Ered Luin. Much can change in close to two centuries. They were appointed to their positions by Thrór. I reserve _my_ right as King to appoint my own councillors, and I have never met any of them. Strangely, they were all too busy on the few occasions I was in the Urâd Zirnul. If they prove themselves, I would be happy to put them to work in positions suited to them. But how can I know that without a demonstration of their skills?” Unspoken went his disdain and mistrust of the nobles who used their status to gain a comfortable life in the Iron Hills rather than join the rest of the Sigin-târag in the hardship of finding a new home.

It was Dáin’s turn to chuckle. “Very canny, lad. You must have learned that from the Lady Dís. She never held with the unearned privileges of rank either.”

“From her, and from Adad. We were both raised to earn things for ourselves, and life in the Khagal’abbad could be hard. No one could be above work or cooperating with those ‘below their station’ to survive.”

“Thorin worked in the forges of men when he had to,” Kíli added. “To earn more coin when game was scarce or we had a hard winter. His was the example everyone followed.”

Dáin shook his head. “No wonder Thorin was so eager to risk the dragon. He would have hated such a life after knowing Azsâlul’abad [3] at the height of its glory.”

The brothers exchanged a quick glance. They _still_ did not understand what set Erebor so far above their home. Neither would argue the point with Dáin however.

At the end of each day, Fíli and Kíli would collapse into bed, exhausted, and curl around each other. Usually they would have some intent of engaging in sex, but managed to stroke each other off only once. Most nights they simply nodded off while kissing.

The elven funerary ceremony proceeded much as the mannish one had. At least until some dwarves chose to create a disturbance, objecting loudly to elves being buried in dwarven territory.

Coldly furious, Fíli strode up to them and punched the clear leader in the jaw. The bone actually broke under the impact of his fist, so furious was he, and he smiled grimly at the dwarf on the ground looking at him in shock. “At least _he_ will spew no more filth for a time.

“Dwalin,” he bellowed before turning to find the burly Guard Captain, along with Kíli, Dáin, and all the Company behind him already. “Please take these dwarves to the cells. They may consider their disrespect of our fallen allies there until they formulate a suitable apology for uttering such vile words.”

“But your Majesty,” protested the sole dwarrowdam, “the elves...”

“I do not care what past slight you wish to air,” Fíli cut her off, blue eyes icy. “Even if they were not our allies, even if they had not fallen in defense of a _dwarven_ kingdom, a funeral is never a place for such words. You shame us all by acting in such a manner.”

Dwalin marched the five troublemakers off with the help of Bifur, Dori, Balin, and Glóin. Dáin waved off a pair of his guards to join them, likely a gesture of apology that it was his warriors who dared disrupt a funeral.

With them removed, Fíli bowed deeply to Thranduil. “I must apologize for their disrespect, Lord Thranduil. Please, tell me what I may do to remedy this insult. We are sincere in our desire for alliance with your people; I hope this has not changed your opinion.”

Thranduil shook his head in answer. “You have already done it. You proved your sincerity when you and your folk acted before my guards were able to.”

“I must offer my apologies as well,” Dáin added, “for they were my people.”

“Accepted.” Thranduil’s reply to the Lord of the Iron Hills was curt, much as Dáin’s apology had been perfunctory. Evidently there was still much work to be done to dispel old grudges. “Now, let us continue to lay to rest those shells left behind, and honour their memories.”

* * *

Two days after the elven funeral and Fíli was becoming anxious. Dís’ advance party had not yet arrived, and Thorin’s funeral was almost upon them. Kíli found him shivering on the outlook as he stared to the west, hoping for some glimpse of them.

“Come inside, razdûn-ê,”[4] Kíli coaxed, wrapping his warm arms around the quaking blond. “It does you no good to look for Amad if you turn into an icicle before she arrives. We may call you after the sun, but you lack the gift of its perpetual warmth.”

“But...”

“And I have asked Reith to scout out farther and bring us news,” Kíli interrupted him.

Fíli laughed, “why didn’t _I_ think of that?”

Kissing the hollow behind his ear, Kíli murmured back, “probably because you have been occupied trying to think of everything _else_ , nadad. That’s why you keep _me_ around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Iron Hills
> 
> [2] Blue Mountains; Ered Luin
> 
> [3] Erebor
> 
> [4] my sun


	24. Dís

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís returns to the mountain, and learns of all that has transpired in their long journey.

“So first will be my speech to all the gathered mourners, and then all will have a chance to place their stone to seal the crypts before I perform the imhêd [1] to commend our fallen into our Maker’s care until the rebuilding of the world. It should properly be Amad as the eldest member of the primary line, but...” Fíli muttered as he paced in front of the guttering fire in his new chambers.

He whirled, facing the door with hands on his hidden daggers as his inward focus was broken by an unexpected noise.

“Fí?” Kíli hovered in the doorway, closing it behind him and peering around the room when the blond relaxed. “Who were you talking to?”

“Myself,” Fíli flushed with the admission. “There is simply so much to remember for the burial tomorrow, especially since it seems Amad will not arrive in time.”

He raised an eyebrow at Kíli, who had begun vibrating in suppressed excitement when the danger of a thrown dagger passed, grinning in the way which meant he had a secret to share.

“That is what I came to tell you. Reith returned with news that Amad’s party will be here within the hour.”

Fíli froze as that news resonated in his ears and in his heart. “Amad...is almost here?” he whispered.

He found himself caught in a fierce embrace the next moment, Kíli in his exuberance lifting his feet off the floor.

“Within the hour,” Kíli repeated gleefully.

Fíli began laughing in spite of himself, feeling some of his worries disperse. He pounded on Kíli’s back in joy even as he demanded, “put me down, you overgrown dwarfling. You cannot go tossing your _King_ about like this.”

Kíli swung him around, lifting him even higher as he laughed, “what about my brother, or my lover? Do they object to this treatment?” Even as he teased, he set Fíli neatly down on his feet, but did not release him entirely.

“As your elder brother, I’ll have to quote Glóin in saying ‘nobody tosses a dwarf’.” He pushed himself out of the embrace enough to grin up at Kíli, blue eyes sparkling. “As for your lover, he won’t object so long as it’s onto a bed, with you following after.”

Kíli chuckled before leaning down to kiss him soundly. “I shall have to remember that for the future. But for now...” Fíli was towed to sit in one of the leather chairs before the fire. “You must have been tugging on your braids as you paced, nadadel. It will take time to set them to rights once more.”

“What about your _own_ hair, Kí?” he asked, eyeing Kíli’s waves which were barely tamed by the blond wood clip Kíli had somehow found time to carve.

“Amad knows my hair is hopeless, Fí. She calls me her ‘wildling’ for a reason you know.”

Fíli snorted at the way he said it, as though forced to point out the obvious, but ceased his protests. Objecting to Kíli fixing his hair was pointless; they both knew how much he enjoyed it.

Enjoyed it so much in fact that he found himself sprinting through the corridors in a laughing Kíli’s wake only minutes before the advance party was supposed to arrive. He managed to catch Kíli before entering the Great Hall, tugging his brother’s clothing straight and smoothing out tangled hair before settling his own garments. Kíli quirked a rueful smile at Fíli’s fussing, but resettled his own clip before Fíli could do it for him.

Walking into the Hall, Fíli was almost oblivious to the other members of the party and their shaggy ponies, the reason for their swift travel. He only had eyes for their mother.

“Amad!” Kíli ran forward to sweep their mother into a hug. Fíli wished he could do the same, but Thorin had succeeded in training the heir apparent to maintain dignity in front of his subjects. His pace forward remained measured, though his greeting smile was just as warm.

“Welcome back to Azsâlul’abad,[2] Amad. I hope soon it will be restored to be all you remember.” This close, Fíli could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but Dís too had learned royal dignity.

Remembering the others at last, Fíli turned to greet them. “Welcome to Erebor. I thank you all for choosing to accompany the Lady Dís on this dangerous journey ahead of the rest of our folk.” Fíli waved Dori forward, others following to reunite with kinfolk now that he had given the official welcome. “Dori, if you could show our kin to their quarters? And Andor, will you help them stable their mounts?”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

With the rest in good hands, Fíli could turn back to his mother. She was watching him, dimples he had inherited from her deepened with her smile.

“It is good to return home, but better to see you again, dashhat-ê.[3] Thank you.”

“I am pleased to see you again; you have arrived just in time. If you would follow Kíli and I, your chambers have been prepared against your arrival.”

Dís followed them in silence until they arrived at what had been her chambers as a dwarfling. There had been some debate among the Company about how appropriate it was, but all agreed in the end that to do otherwise would be too strange.

Nevertheless, Fíli held his breath for her reaction as he pushed open the door.

“Oh my,” Dís gasped as she took in the rooms she had not seen for close to two centuries. The decoration could not compare to the tatters of past glories which had remained even after all those years, but it was serviceable. “I never thought to see this place again,” she admitted after touring the suite. “I thought...well, it does not matter now.”

Turning her back to the changes made in her rooms, she looked at those the journey had wrought in her sons. Noting the way they stood by each other, she beamed. “Kíli! You told him at last!”

Kíli ducked his head as he answered, “I finally saw a hint of interest returned.”

“I am so happy for you, wildling. So happy for you both.” And she swept them into the embrace Fíli had craved since he had heard she was on her way. He frantically blinked back the tears which prickled at his eyes however. He still had to share the news about Thorin, and he could not afford to lose his composure even before he began.

Dís read his struggle in his face when she released them.

“I did not see Thorin with you, and Dori addressed you as King. Thorin is not merely recovering from the battle, is he?”

“No.” Kíli answered when he saw Fíli groping for words.

“What happened?”

“It was a long journey, Amad,” Fíli choked out.

She seated herself in the sole chair before the fire, gesturing for them to sit in front of her. With Kíli curled along his back, Fíli sat at her feet and the whole tale of the journey came spilling out. He held nothing back; not his fears, Thorin’s madness, or the actions they had taken behind his back.

____________________

“I’m sorry, Amad,” Fíli concluded his lengthy narrative. “We failed to protect him, though it should have been us to shield our kin; our _King._ ”

Dís reached out to cup the face of her elder son, stroking a thumb soothingly over his neat beard. “Oh, Fíli. My brave, dutiful Fíli, you failed in nothing. I know my brother would not have wished you to sacrifice your lives for his.” She paused thoughtfully for a few beats.

Fíli was grateful for it. It gave him a moment to try to come to terms with her forgiveness for what he still saw as his failing. No, not forgiveness, for her words meant there was nothing to forgive.

“Sorrowful as it is to think, I believe Thorin giving his life in defense of yours was the best outcome we could expect.”

The brothers looked at their mother in shock. “Amad!?”

“It is true, zunug dashhat-ê.[4] At least once he succumbed to the sickness which lay upon the gold.” Dís shook her head in fond exasperation flavoured heavily with her regret for Thorin’s end. “He spent so long telling himself, and everyone else, that he was not our Grandfather. He saw what became of Thrór when his love of gold came to matter more to him than his people, despite Fjalldís and her best efforts.  Mother told me that he had loved Grandmother fiercely until the gold came to dominate his thoughts.

“Thorin never stood up to Thrór directly, and I know he regretted that. I think in returning he believed that having watched one such descent into madness, it would grant him the knowledge to resist. He would be able to fight it as he had not in Thrór. Having fallen to it? With all the deeds he committed under the influence of Smaug’s thrall? Thorin would have torn himself apart with his guilt.”

It was a sobering thought. They had already seen Thorin distance himself after the death of Hjalli, cold and sharp when Fíli had dared to speak with him. He made rash decisions, refusing to listen to council, which only fed his guilt when he later reconsidered. He continued in that manner until Dís at last cornered him and forced him to see reason. Fíli had no idea exactly what Dís had said to him, but their incomprehensible shouting echoed through the halls from the council chambers for much of a day. Hjalli’s loss marked a lasting change in Thorin however; he became more of a King and less an Uncle. And a sterner taskmaster as well.

Almost to himself, Fíli mused, “what poor decisions would Thorin have made because of his guilt _this_ time? With his animosity towards the elves and men?”

Dís nodded in agreement, though in her Durin blue eyes he could see her sorrow at thinking her brother capable of such poor leadership. “Even in my brief glimpse on my way into the kingdom, I see positive changes you’ve made, alliances which Thorin _never_ would have considered. I am proud of you, my son, for seeing the possibilities for the future.”

“Thank you, Amad,” Fíli said, ducking his head at her rare praise. “But are you certain you will not take the crown? By right of lineage, it should pass to you first.”

She shook her head, laughing lightly. “You are not remembering our laws properly. On the same day Thorin named you heir, I first freely renounced my claim to the throne. I cannot now take that decision back, nor do I wish to; though I would be pleased to serve as one of your advisors.”

“Of course, Amad.” He leaned back on Kíli’s shoulder; tension he had not even realized was present leaching out of his body now their mother had arrived. Her brisk, no-nonsense manner of looking at things had always soothed something within him. It was strangely reassuring that she was not fussing or treating them any differently, despite all which had passed. “You will perform imhêd tomorrow though?”

Dís’ full mouth turned down at the corners, but she nodded. “I have heard those words far too many times in my years. But of course I will.” She leaned forward to cup their cheeks with her hands. “I am so relieved that I will not be speaking the blessing to send either of you on tomorrow,” she said, gathering them both into a tight embrace.

Tears had only just begun to well in Fíli’s eyes when she sat back, swallowing hard and blinking.

“Now, it is getting late, and an early morning tomorrow. We will have more time to catch up, but for now I am tired.”

Fíli bit back an instinctive protest despite his strong desire to simply bask in her soothing presence for longer. Dís truly did look tired after her long journey. He and Kíli followed each other in dropping kisses on her cheek before getting up to leave. Fíli paused however as he reached the door and his shadow was not right on his heels.

Kíli was standing a few paces away, turned to face Dís with a sweet smile on his lips. “I know you told me to return to you,” he held up the blue runestone that Dís had sent on every one of his journeys before tossing it back to her, “but it seems as though this time we have done it the other way around.”

When they shut the door behind them, Dís was laughing.

Though it was only a short distance to their own door, Fíli spent the time considering the matter deeply. He did not speak again until they had shed their clothing and were curled into each other in bed.

“I’ve never asked before, Kí, but I’m curious now. I overheard you telling Tauriel that Amad gave you that stone because she thinks you’re reckless, but that’s not truly the reason; is it? Why did she give one to you and not me?”

“It only began after Adad’s death...” Kíli began hesitantly. Fíli was bursting with questions, but remained silent so Kíli would continue. “She took me aside the day before I left on the first escort mission since we had lost him. She knew I was feeling anxious, and she showed me the runestone. It was a private ritual between her and Hjalli. Amad carved it for him when they began courting; gave it to him every time he left alone to sell his wares. But she hadn’t sent it with him on patrol...”

Fíli felt as though he had been punched in the gut, hearing that. Dís wasn’t superstitious ordinarily, but however coincidental, that must have been devastating. “Why did she never make one for me then?”

He could feel from the tension in his brother’s body that he was reluctant to answer. “Kí?”

“You never went on any journeys which I was not also on...,” he trailed off, and the silence hung for long enough that Fíli thought he would not continue. “And Amad knew that I would not return without you.”

“Because your heart chose me?”

He could hear Kíli shaking his head. “Even before that, Fí. You’re my older brother, I’ve always adored you, looked up to you.” There was a grin in his voice when he added, “which used to be a bit more _literal_.”

There was a brief scuffle when Fíli elbowed Kíli for his teasing, but it ended when the brunet wrapped his arms around him and he snuggled into them instead of struggling.

“Really, Fí, how could I ever think of returning without you? I love you. Watching Adad fall because I was not fast enough to save him...I could never face that with you. I would go mad.

“On top of that, I am the second heir. It has always been my duty to protect you.”

“I would never ask that of you!”

“It doesn’t matter, amrâl. And that’s not why I would do it anyways.”

Instead of more useless protests which Kíli would never listen to, Fíli caught him in a fierce kiss through which he tried to express his love, fears, and over all else, his gratitude for Kíli.

And as Fíli was about to drift off, Kíli whispered, “it felt like forgiveness,” into his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] act of blessing
> 
> [2] Erebor
> 
> [3] my sons
> 
> [4] my courageous sons


	25. Blessing and Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and the other dwarves are laid to rest at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have heavily interpreted funeral customs, both modern and ancient, from Judaism in this chapter. I really hope I did them justice, but if I have made any errors, I would be happy to work to correcting them. I have also included the tradition of a wake as I have experienced with my family. Everyone shares stories of the person who has passed. They laugh, they cry, they get very drunk. It seemed appropriately dwarven.
> 
> We're coming up on the end of this story! Only a couple chapters left to go.

Fíli stood before the gathered mourners at the great Front Gate of Erebor, the grey sky overhead echoing the somber mood. The dwarves around him were dressed in plain, undyed clothing, and their guests had also followed the tradition. It was particularly strange seeing the Elvenking dressed in such unadorned garb. The Company stood out in that respect, for they were wearing what little they had available, though stripped down to the barest layers. He nodded in recognition of the crowd, but no one would speak before they reached the miradîn.[1] Turning to Kíli at his side, he held out his candle for his brother to spark alight. He touched Kíli’s taper with his own and watched the flame passed along the rows until all the mourners’ candles were lit. They appeared as a field of stars come down in the early morning light.

It was time. Fíli raised his candle in a wordless signal before turning to lead the way into the mountain and down. Behind him, Kíli, Dís, and Dáin followed close at his heels, and behind trailed a long line of Dáin’s surviving warriors, the Company, any elves or men who chose to join them, and one hobbit. All carried candles to light their way as they wound down the long staircases to the Fifth Deep, where the catacombs lay.

Ever since the battle, dwarven hands had turned from wielding weapons to wielding chisels in tribute to their fallen. All those who had lost their lives in the battle had already been moved to their resting places in the days after the elven ceremony, along with some of those who had died the day the dragon came. The lugun [2] today would serve to recognize their sacrifice and commend their spirits to their Maker.

This day would also serve to mark a change in their traditions. Not since the Second Age had non-dwarves attended such a private ceremony. In recognition, Fíli had declared that all blessings and speeches would be made in Westron for the comprehension of their guests. This had caused some grumbling, but it was conceded that this was preferable to outsiders hearing their sacred language. Some part of him wished to arrange for those to hear Galadriel speaking ancient Khuzdul, as she had with Kíli and him.

The Lady of Light had graciously agreed to provide illumination for the ceremony, as the foxfire moss which grew in dwarven catacombs had done poorly under Smaug’s domain. When they at last reached the bottom of the winding ramps, she raised her arms and a soft white light began to radiate out from the stones themselves, casting strange shadows across those gathered.

Through the gentle glow Fíli led the procession past ages of Erebor’s dead to the fresh crypts carved into the mountain’s depths. He couldn’t help but think of Hjalli and the possibility of moving his bishakîn [3] to rest in these halls. Hjalli was not born of the Sigin-târag however; he had no kin to rest alongside were his bones to be moved.

Despite knowing he would not change Hjalli’s resting place, Fíli kept his father in his mind as he began the agrâfu udrâth.[4] It was a refrain he had turned to for comfort many times.

          Those who are worn and crushed by mourning, let your hearts consider this:

          This is the path that has been laid for our people since Durin’s awakening, which will lay before us until the remaking of the world

          Many have walked down it and many will yet follow

          As was the first ending, so shall be the last

          May the surety of our Maker’s welcome for those we have lost comfort you

          And know that we shall meet again when the world is made new [[5]](http://www.shiva.com/learning-centre/resources/poems-of-comfort/)

His last words fell into the hush, quickly swallowed by the tiny sounds of restless bodies magnified in the tight space. In the weird susurration created, his footsteps sounded heavy, graceless steps forward until he could look down upon Thorin’s body for the last time. From his back he took Orcrist, returned by Thranduil for this purpose, and laid it across his uncle’s breast. One King to another, Fíli bent to kiss Thorin’s brow.

 _“You did well, Thorin. Our people are returning to the mountain once again, and I will see that they have a home worthy of them. Rest now, King under the Mountain, and know that your burden is lifted at last,”_ he scarcely breathed the words, not wishing his private benediction to be carried to the ears of those waiting. At last, he felt as though he understood some of what had lain behind Thorin’s words on a Laketown jetty, though he still disagreed with the outcome. He must go on without his uncle, but he would not _surrender_ him as Thorin had done to Kíli.

Though reluctant, Fíli straightened and left Thorin on his granite bier. He stepped back quickly before the sight of his uncle lying there, washed and clad in simple clothes, could cause him to weep. Thorin had never been so still in any memory Fíli had of him, nor so small. In the entrance of the crypt, he paused once more, kneeling to set the first stone in place which would seal Thorin away.

With his task discharged, Fíli was able to watch as the rest laid their stones in the entrances, closing the dead away where they lay peacefully on carven shelves or in bishakîn. Every dwarf wore a different expression, flavours of sorrow, laughter, anger,...or simply blank with shock. Most of those from the other peoples maintained respectful expressions, but Fíli could tell they did not truly understand the ceremony. Did not understand the significance of their dead sleeping beneath stone, as the Seven created first had slept. Bilbo remained an exception, as he had been since the beginning of their journey. It was moving to see how their burglar had grown to care for Fíli’s people, watching the simple ceremony with tears in his eyes before moving to place his own.

Stones from the mourners in place, the final sealing of the crypts would be done by masons in the days to come. Dís moved from entrance to entrance, bowing solemnly to those who lay within. When she began the imhêd,[6] her rich, resonant voice filled the chamber.

          Mahal filled with compassion, dweller in great halls,

          Bring proper rest within the Halls of Waiting, amid the ranks of the crafters and artisans

          To join those who have gone before and await their task for the remaking of the world.

          May you who are the source of inspiration shelter them until the time for new creation

          And welcome their weary spirits that they may rest and be renewed

          And let us join in saying: [[7]](http://www.ritualwell.org/ritual/el-maley-rakhamim)

A chorus of near five hundred voices joined her in completing the closing, “So be it, truly.” After the appropriate period of silence, Fíli stepped to the fore once again and began the wordless melody with which they had honoured the coronation of each King since Durin. Some said that it had been Durin’s lover to begin the tradition, singing his beloved back to her slumber within the stone. Fíli did not know if it was true, but he liked the thought.

Kíli’s steady tenor and Dís’ rich contralto followed him into the song first, and then one by one the rest of the dwarves joined in. Their voices layered on top of one another to create a beautiful harmony, only made richer as it resonated through the caverns. Fíli could not help but hope it reached Thorin somehow. The uncle he remembered had always had a great love of music.

The song’s echoes were slow to fade, cascading from the stone in an eerie and haunting minor key. It sent a chill up Fíli’s spine, as though the melody had a ghost of its own. It seemed he was not the only one to be so affected. An almost expectant stillness had fallen over the gathering as they all listened to the melody fade away. It gave Fíli an opportunity to study the faces of those who had not attended such a ceremony before.

Unsurprisingly, Bilbo still wept, but he was not the only one so visibly moved. With the sole exception of Thranduil, all of the elves in attendance had a crystalline trail of tears on their cheeks. There was something ancient and sorrowful about Galadriel in particular, and he wondered who she was remembering. He would have to remember going forward that the elves were not so entirely removed from the concerns of others as they liked to present.

With the song faded to the barest shimmering notes in the distance, Fíli raised his hands to call their attention back. “I thank you all for gathering to honour our fallen. They will never be truly gone so long as their memories live on within us. To that end, I invite you all to join in the mahsahkmâ [8] this evening. All are welcome to share remembrances of those lost in the battle, to honour their lives as well as their deaths.”

Simple ceremony complete, there was just one last thing. Blowing out his candle, Fíli was the first to step over to one of the large basins which had been placed in anticipation. Setting down his taper, he cleansed himself in the icy water and was the first to leave the miradîn behind. A set of footsteps followed closely in his wake, but he did not have to turn to know it was Kíli.

Fíli had expected to feel more in the wake of the ceremony, but it seemed that he had cleansed more than his hands. He was almost hollowed out, stripped down and emotionless. It came with a certain serenity which he chose to embrace knowing that it would fade soon enough.

It was not until they reached the level of the Fourth Deep that Kíli chose to close the distance and catch his hand. The brunet interlaced their fingers and gave him a reassuring smile, but did not break the silence.

____________________

Heading to the mahsahkmâ that evening, Fíli at last felt the strange distance fading. He could not allow the full weight of his emotions to crash down on him, not when he was about to stand before his people, and he hoped no small number of men and elves. Nevertheless, it was a relief to be able to feel more than numb.

The four remaining of the ruling Line of Durin entered the Great Hall together, Fíli and Dís flanked with Kíli on his brother’s left and Dáin escorting Dís. Fíli smiled to see that his hopes had come true. It was likely many of their guests were there to assuage their curiosity, but he hoped they would join more fully as they realized what the event was for. To that end, he paused by Thranduil and Bard, sitting together.

“I will speak to open this evening’s gathering, but would either of you care to say some words after me?” Fíli asked the other leaders.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what sort of words would be expected,” Bard admitted. “I have no understanding of your language.”

The blond chuckled. “Of course, I apologize. I have never heard the word rendered into Westron before, and had not thought to do so. In essence, tonight serves to memorialize the lives of those lost and not simply their deaths. We share stories of those gone on, to remember them as they were. Of course, as a great deal of ale is consumed in grief, those tales do tend to get more absurd as the night wears on,” Fíli grinned at the man. “As a leader of your people, you may choose to make a statement to all, or speak of more personal losses.”

More gently, remembering when Balin had unwittingly brought up old pain, “and we do not limit the tales to be shared to recent deaths. As long as we remember them, our loved ones are never entirely gone.”

Bard seemed shaken, but he mustered up a weak smile for Fíli. “In that case, I must accept your invitation to speak. Thank you.”

Graciously giving the man a moment to regain his composure, the swordsman turned to Thranduil. “Would you care to do so as well, milord?”

The Elvenking had regained some of his haughty reserve in the days since his return of their weapons. He gave the appearance of looking down his nose at Fíli, but accepted nonetheless. “I would be pleased to say a few words.”

“Thank you, both.” Fíli turned to lead the way to the slightly elevated dais from where they would address the gathered, but before he could, Elrond stood.

“If you would not mind, I would like to say a few words as well.”

Though startled, Fíli responded smoothly. “Of course, Lord Elrond. Everyone is welcome to speak tonight, I am sorry I did not think to ask if you would help start us off.”

He had to lead his growing procession through the maze of servers making certain all had a good meal and an ale to start off the evening. It seemed they had chosen their timing well, for when they reached the front, only a few were left to be served before those dishing out the food split up to join their companions. It seemed that many had gotten a head start on the ale. The room was already raucous with conversation and insults which Fíli hoped were good-natured, but a hush fell when their party reached the dais. It was still strange to have all that attention focussed solely on him, but he was beginning to become accustomed to it.

“I thank you all for coming this evening. For those of you who are unfamiliar with our traditions, the mahsahkmâ is an opportunity to remember those we’ve lost as a community. We believe no one is ever entirely gone as long as their memory is preserved. Tonight, everyone is welcome to share tales of their loved ones who have journeyed on ahead.

“I will never forget the bravery shown by all our peoples on the battlefield. The courage it took to face the orcs was incredible, and I struggle to find voice for my gratitude.

“Tonight however, I would like to share a more personal memory of my father. Hjalli died many years ago, but his memory continued to shape the dwarrow I have tried to become. He was a merchant of the Ered Luin. One of my fondest memories of him comes from when I was but a dwarfling. He had returned from one of his long trading trips with a few broken odds and ends, most of his own wares cleared out. When I asked him why he had brought broken things back, he sat down with me and Kíli and showed us how to fix them. If they were too damaged for repair, he would simply turn them into something else. Life was never easy in our settlement, but he showed us how to take broken things and give them value once more. To never throw things away just because they did not appear valuable on the surface. I hope I can bring some of that same spirit to Erebor.”

The blond relinquished his place only to be caught up by Dís. She met his forehead with her own, smiling though it looked like she would weep.

“He would be so proud of you, razdûn-ê,” she said fiercely. Dís blinked back her tears as she released him, stepping up to share her memory.

His official part of the evening over, Fíli was more than content to step back and listen. The tale Dís told of a much younger Thorin and Frerin trying to play a prank on Fundin was one he had not heard before. Knowing that Thorin had lost his brother so young... He found himself looking around for Kíli. As ever, it seemed Kíli knew what he wanted before he even had to ask, stepping close and resting a warm hand on his back. He relaxed into the touch, knowing it was subtle enough not to appear as weakness.

Dáin took his place after Dís, speaking of his lost warriors with a quiet dignity which Fíli had not yet seen from his somewhat boisterous cousin. He would have to be sure not to underestimate him in future.

Bard stepped up after Dáin. He too spoke of the fallen Lakemen, both from battle and the dragon. But as Fíli had guessed, he took a moment to speak of his wife also. Her name had been Sefa, and she had treated the sick during an incident of plague in Laketown. It was no wonder Bard hated the Master so, for had he released his hold on the treasury to buy medicines, Sefa might have lived. Rather than dwell on his loss, Bard instead spoke of her calm courage, how she treated any sick or injured who came to their door, even those who could not pay.

It seemed Bard had started a trend, for Thranduil also thanked his fallen before sharing a memory of his wife. He did not share her name, but Fíli’s sense that she had been a remarkable female only deepened with what Thranduil shared of her. He could not help but wonder what Thranduil had been like while she lived. From the hungry look Legolas wore while his father spoke, it seemed he had not known his mother for long, if at all.

Elrond closed the official round of remembrances by speaking of his twin, Elros. Who had chosen the mortal path, founded a dynasty, and left his brother to face the ages alone. Elrond spoke not of the bitterness of that choice, but of a moment he had shared with his brother upon the birth of his first grandchild. Of the joy of knowing that there would be a piece of his brother left behind, even after his brother went on to the fate reserved for men. All the same, Fíli felt his brother’s hand tighten in his shirt and wished to turn around to enfold Kíli in his arms. He could not even imagine making such a choice to leave him behind.

All the same, it was a good note with which to open the floor. It reminded all of them that those who have gone on always left something behind for their loved ones.

Lost in thought, it took a nudge from Kíli to start him moving towards their table.

“I don’t know about you, Fí, but I would rather like to get to dinner,” Kíli muttered.

Fíli laughed and took the hint. Already one of Dáin’s warriors had stood to speak. All attention was on her, relieving the royals to eat their meal as privately as could be managed in a packed hall. Though he was interested to hear what others had to say, Fíli found his thoughts wandering once more. Imhêd over and his tasks for the mahsahkmâ complete, there was no longer anything to distract from his impending coronation the next day.

Only when his spoon scraped the empty bottom of his bowl a few times did Fíli notice he had eaten his meal already. He looked to see if Kíli had noticed, but his brother was entranced by the tales. Fíli often teased him about how absorbed he became, but in this case it stopped him from worrying about Fíli’s own distraction.

Before he could worry himself sick about the coronation, Fíli rose and decided to wander around the room. It was likely as low a profile as he would ever manage anymore, and folk had begun to split into small talkative knots.

It was on his second circuit of the room that Fíli noticed Galadriel standing quietly, half-hidden in the shadow cast by a pillar but impossible to go entirely unremarked. He stepped closer to her, seeing that a quiet moment to assuage his earlier curiosity had presented itself. “I noticed during the akmâthu idrêth [9] that it seemed you were remembering someone. Would it be too bold to ask who that may have been?”

For a moment he feared he had overstepped his bounds with this ancient queen as her gaze became distant and sad, but in the next moment her eyes cleared and she smiled.

“I was remembering Durin. She was a vibrant spirit, and a good friend.”

So stunned was he that he actually found himself gaping like a fool. “You knew Durin?”

Her gentle laughter prompted him to close his mouth, though her hand on Fíli’s shoulder told him it was not intended to be mocking. “I knew a few of those who claimed the name of Durin. The particular friendship I was referring to however was with the fourth of that name.” Galadriel smiled though once again her eyes were gazing into the past. “She was a noble King, and led her people in the Last Alliance alongside my kinsman, Gil-galad.”

This time, when her eyes caught and held Fíli’s once more, he almost preferred the distance. The Lady of Lorien seemed to be looking into his very spirit.

“You and your brother remind me of her in many ways. You have her courage and open heart, a generosity which served her well when tempered with reason. If you were not two people, and male, I would suggest that Durin had returned to lead your people once more.”

Now Fíli was so amazed he could scarce find the words to protest. “But our people would have known...”

“Yes, Durin always did have a way of making herself known,” Galadriel smiled somewhat wistfully. “But all the same, you have her spirit. She would have been proud to know you, and to know that you were born of her line.”

As if sensing that Fíli was beyond words, flushed brightly at her words, Galadriel took her leave of him. “I thank you for inviting me to share in this tradition of your people, Master Fíli. It is a beautiful one.”

He was left gaping in her wake, trying to pull himself together before he lost all semblance of dignity. Fíli was not entirely successful in restraining his flinch and grab for his weapons when a lightly amused female voice spoke from behind.

“Lady Galadriel does not bestow idle compliments.”

The swordsman spun rapidly to find himself face to...chest with Linwë, who Kíli had introduced him to when they had been assigned to a work crew together.

“Pardon?” Fíli asked, buying himself time to soothe his jangled nerves.

Linwë grinned at him. “Lady Galadriel has never been wrong in her judgement of character, so if she is comparing you to someone she knew, you should trust her. And for myself, I will add what I had told your brother. Neither of you are what I expected from meeting dwarves. I have to recalibrate my perceptions, and that’s refreshing.”

“Thank you...” Fíli said slowly, “I suppose.”

The curly-haired elf laughed, “Kíli reacted much the same way. I suppose I should work on my compliments, I have not had opportunity to interact with those outside of Mirkwood in many years.”

It was Fíli’s turn to smile. “I suppose not, if you imprison all your potential guests.”

“I think milord will be changing that policy,” Linwë agreed easily. “And I hope that I will be assigned to any future ventures with your people. I am finding I quite enjoy speaking with dwarves. I look forward to the changes you will bring us all.”

“Thank you. You are always welcome in Erebor.” Fíli inclined his head in a shallow bow. “For now though, I believe I should find that brother you mentioned and be off for the night.”

“Of course, you will have much to prepare for your coronation tomorrow,” Linwë returned a much deeper bow.

Fíli lost himself in the crowd, dazed from what Galadriel had said of him. Making his way through the gathering had becoming increasingly difficult, he was pulled into embraces, toasts, or to be cried on many times before he located Kíli at last. His brother was in a tight knot of people, somehow managing to gather dwarves, elves, and men together through the sheer force of his personality. He could imagine Galadriel’s words applying to Kíli, but not to himself.

And yet, as soon as he asked, Kíli drew himself away from his new friends to join him in returning to their chambers. In his eyes, Fíli saw that _Kíli_ believed he was as special as the Lady had suggested. He collapsed into their bed with that thought in mind, and slept much more soundly than he had expected to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] place of the dead
> 
> [2] homage
> 
> [3] place of the bones; ossuary
> 
> [4] prayer for the mourners
> 
> [5] [](http://www.shiva.com/learning-centre/resources/poems-of-comfort/) poem source, heavily modified for dwarven beliefs
> 
> [6] blessing
> 
> [7] [](http://www.ritualwell.org/ritual/el-maley-rakhamim) El Maleh Rachamin "A prayer for the rest of the departed" which was again modified for dwarven beliefs
> 
> [8] to watch; the wake
> 
> [9] song of mourning


	26. Heavy is the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili stands before his people and humbly asks to assume his birthright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to post. I had an...interesting few months, and spent some time in care. Unfortunately, it kind of screwed up my writing groove (and my laptop dying didn't help either)   
> We're almost to the end of this tale though. One or two more chapters left, and then I'll be starting on the sequel. I hope you enjoy ^^

That precious confidence dissipated like mist in morning's light. Defying all of Kíli's attempts to calm him, Fíli found he could not prevent his hands from shaking as he dressed, and a cold sweat broke out under the heavy layers. Fíli wished he could secrete his usual plethora of bladed weapons around his clothing without insulting those who came to see him crowned. Instead he selected a few of his smallest knives to in places even the elves did not find, and contented himself when that at least prevented the most visible tremors.

Allowing Kíli to brush and braid his hair was the most soothing part of the preparations. Fíli leaned into his brother's hold and let his mind drift as Kíli spent he did not know how long just brushing. He only surfaced just for a moment as Kíli leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“The bright sun of your hair is the only treasure I will ever covet, razdûn-nadad.[1] It shines more brilliant and pure than any of the gold hoarded by Thrór.”

Fíli laughed, turning in his hold to drop a kiss on Kíli's palm. “And what guarantee you will not desire to lock me away and permit no other to look upon me?”

“Oh, Fí,” Kíli sighed, chuckling. “I have desired that since the day I first understood that my love for you was not simply for my brother. But in the end, I love you too much to constrain your freedom or your choices. And now we both have a duty to our kingdom.”

_Our kingdom._ It warmed Fíli every time to hear that Kíli considered the responsibility just as much his, that he would not leave the task of ruling to Fíli alone.

Rather than pursue that line of conversation, Kíli turned back to carefully plaiting Fíli s hair. The motions were familiar, but now he wove the King's pattern rather than the heir's back from Fíli's temples and behind his ears. When all the usual clips and beads were in place, the blond so another opportunity to distract himself from what would take place that day.

“I know they will not stay for long, Kí, but may I weave the heir's pattern into your hair? I would use the Consort's instead, but I must confess I do not know it.”

“I do, but perhaps it is not yet time to make that particular announcement,” Kíli responded. “And certainly I do not have time to teach it to you, not with how poorly you remember braids,” he added teasingly.

“I suppose I should continue preparing then,” Fíli turned away only to be halted by Kíli's grasp on his arm.

“It was only a jest, nadadel,” Kíli half-apologized with a hesitant smile. “I would be pleased if you would braid my hair for your coronation. Will you add the Mastery pattern as well? I hope they stay in for at least the main ceremony.”

Fíli tried to conceal his giddy smile as he switched positions with his brother, both pleased with Kíli's seldom given permission and relieved to have something other than his coronation to focus on. With the thick chestnut locks still somewhat damp from their earlier bath, he found the task simpler than usual.

“I really do hope that the braids remain in your hair, nadad. Probably worse to have them come loose during the ceremony than not to have them at all.”

“Oh, Mahal,” Kíli whirled around, alarmed, and halted only by Fíli's firm grasp by the braid he was working on. “Should I not have them then? I would not wish to shame you, Fíli.”

The blond stroked Kíli's hair soothingly. “You will not shame me, nadad, even if they unravel. You could never shame me, amrâl. It is only right that you wear the symbols of your accomplishments and position. You will be ruling by my side after all.”

Kíli sighed. “I am being foolish, I know.”

“Why would you think I would ever feel shamed by you? Have I ever said anything to make you feel that way?”

“No, Fí, of course not.” He sighed and hung his head. “I suppose Thorin's words just brought back memories of being disdained for not being a 'proper' dwarf. I have no wish to undermine your rule if the dwarves from the Iron Hills gain the same impression.”

Fíli could not hold back the snort which escaped his nose. He hastened to explain himself at the hurt look on Kíli's bowed face.

“I'm sorry, Kí. I do not wish to make light of your experiences, I know fold have been cruel. It's just... have you not listened to what the warriors of the Iron Hills have been saying about you? Kíli Swiftarrow aided in the defeat of not just Azog and Bolg, but no less a villain than Smaug himself! I do not refute that the nobles might believe much the same about you as folk back home, but they will likely find reason to disdain me as well. Dáin's warriors however, they revere us both. I hold their opinions far above those of noble folk who wish to pass judgement from a distance and never get their hands dirty.”

He elbowed Kíli in the side teasingly. “We're dwarves after all. Our people were _meant_ to get their hands dirty.”

Kíli huffed a laugh and leaned back, relaxing into Fíli's hold. “Thank you, sannadad. I should not have doubted you. The attention will not be on _me_ today in any case.”

Fíli blew out a heavy breath. The only ways to get rid of that little smirk hovering at the corner of Kíli's mouth would get them both far too dishevelled for the day's events. “Thank you for reminding me, Kí.” He slipped the last bead on Kíli's hair and kissed the crown of his head before standing and stretching.

“I suppose I cannot delay it any longer.” The swordsman looked with distaste at the armour on the stand nearby, dents from the battle hammered out with care, but the scars remained. He would be wearing it for the ceremony, proof of his right to rule through valour as well as bloodline. Despite that, it served Fíli more as a reminder of their loss that day. A loss that was the reason the crown came to him too soon.

Broad shoulders drooped in resignation. At least he would not need to wear full plate. The chestpiece was enough to satisfy ceremony.

Kíli moved to stand by his shoulder. “Would you like me to help you arm?”

“Of course, thank you.”

Both remained silent during the quick process of arming and armouring. There was a certain mindset which came from the familiar martial motions; so by the time Dís, Dwalin, and Balin knocked upon the door, Fíli had iron in his spine.

“You both look wonderful, dasshat-ê.[2]” Dís opened her arms as if to enfold them before folding her hands in front of her own finery.

“You too, Amad,” Kíli beamed.

“It has been a long time since we last saw you in your armour, Amad.”

She laughed and spun to show off the brightly burnished chestplate fastened over her deep blue velvet skirts. Dís had chosen to add her leather vambraces over her chain sleeves and fastened her thick dark curls into a crown of braids around her head, tightly bound as she would when going into battle. With her spiked warhammer strapped to her back, Dís looked every inch as beautiful and deadly as Fíli knew her to be.

“Are you prepared, your Majesty?” Balin inquired gravely.

“I am, Balin. Is it time already?”

“It is, your Majesty.”

“I look forward to swearing my axes to your service,” Dwalin stepped forward to kneel before Fíli.

This show of confidence from one of his uncle's oldest friends was the last nudge Fíli needed to feel prepared for his coronation that day. With a few strides he had a hand on the burly warrior's shoulder. “I thank you for your support, Dwalin. I know that you – and your axes – will serve faithfully.”

With Dís and Balin leading the way, and Dwalin and Kíli flanking him, Fíli made his way out to the battlefield. The first step out the Front Gate had him shivering in the frigid December wind. Fíli's boots scuffed through the thin crust of snow which had fallen the night before. It was no wonder that most of those who could be attending the coronation had been waiting for them in the First Hall past the Gate.

One figure cloaked in grey stood waiting on the platform which had been constructed for the day, this height and distinctive crooked hat betraying his identity. With no small amount of debate, Gandalf had been asked to conduct the coronation. In the end, the entire Company felt that the choice was only appropriate. It had been his revelation of the map and key to Thorin which had begun the whole quest. Now the coronation would mark the end of their journey.

Though Gandalf had his eyes closed when they climbed the steps onto the dais, he faced Fíli unerringly. “I am pleased to be here today, Fíli. I know you will be a great ruler. You have already shown commendable courage in the face of challenging and distressing circumstances. With that in mind, I believe you may find the next months a relief.”

The Grey Wizard opened his eyes with a smile as he looked over Fíli's head. “I see the crowd has begun to gather. In this weather, I should think that all would like to get this completed as quickly as possible.”

Kíli laughed. “As much as I wish to see my brother receive his due, I am forced to agree with them for the sake of my fingers and toes.”

Those assembling must truly feel the same way, for they surprised Fíli with the speed of their assembly. As visiting dignitaries, Thranduil, Elrond, Bard, Galadriel, and even Bilbo joined them on the dais. Beorn and the Eagles had also been invited to return so they could properly be thanked for their aid in the battle. As the last folk settled into place, Fíli smiled to see Reith and Roäc flutter down to land on the dais railings.

With the showmanship Gandalf had demonstrated on several occasions on the quest, he stepped forward to slam his staff into the boards with a bright flash of light. His voice carried clearly across the gathered dwarves, men, and elves. “Welcome, all of you. Yesterday, we gathered to mourn the last of those lost in the Battle, including the King Under the Mountain. Today we are here to see his legacy continued. We are here to see the crowning of Fíli Kinshield, nephew and chosen heir of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Fíli flushed when a spontaneous cheer of acclamation rose up from the crowd, relieved he was facing the wizard and not the onlookers. What he _could_ see was Kíli's grin and slightly mangled attempt at a wink.

“Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, are you prepared to take on the weighty responsibilities as King of Durin's Folk? Will you swear to safeguard their present and their future?”

“I am, and I will,” Fíli responded firmly. In a departure from long-established tradition, he turned to face his people to swear his oath. For it is they who he will be serving, and it is returning to that recognition, returning to the tradition begun with the very first Durin upon her elevation to official leader of the clan.

“My people, I had not looked to be your King for many years yet. But though I was not expecting it, I swear I will honour the trust placed in me when my uncle named me as his heir. I shall do my best to earn your trust as well. I swear to rebuild Erebor into the welcoming home for our people which it was meant to be, with your aid. May Mahal guide me in becoming a true leader for our people, to honour those Kings who have gone before me. I hope to prove myself worthy of Durin's legacy to her people.”

He raised his left hand, palm splayed open in preparation for the dagger he held in his right. Drawing the edge across the meat of his palm, he kept the pain out of his voice as he spoke, “I vow to uphold the laws of Erebor, to protect those living within its walls; to honour all pacts and alliances, and to serve my people to the best of my ability as their King. I vow this on my blood as Fíli Dísul,[3] heir to Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, last King to be found under the mountain. May my blood, shed freely, join with the earth of the Mountain and serve as foundation of a new era of peace and prosperity for the people of Erebor and those surrounding the Mountain.”

Kíli stepped forward and bandaged Fíli's bleeding hand while Gandalf addressed the crowd once again.

“People of Erebor, will you now accept Fíli Kinshield's oath and acclaim him as your King?”

Gasps of shock resounded through the still air. It had been Ages since Durin's folk had last been asked if the would _accept_ a King. It took a few moments for the question to truly register, but a ragged chorus of 'ayes' followed. A brief pause fell after the last answer died away, as if no one was quite certain how to proceed.

“All hail King Fíli!” Rang out loudly just as Gandalf was about to speak again.

The new King bowed his head with a small smile that his people would so readily accept his elevation. A warmth bloomed in his chest, negating the cold of the air. He knew he would give them everything he was, even if it was not a role he would have chosen.

“ Fíli Dísul, you have been acclaimed as King by your people. Turn and accept the symbol of your leadership,” Gandalf said solemnly.

In accordance, Fíli turned and inclined his head. Gandalf placed the very same crown which Kíli had carved upon his thick honey waves.

“I pronounce you King Fíli, ruler of the Sigin-târag.[4] May Mahal bless your rule with wisdom and prosperity for your people.” The Grey Wizard gave the new King a genuine smile. Fíli returned it, for as uncertain as Gandalf's motivations were, he had evidently only wished the best for the end of their journey.

The newly crowned King turned once more to face his people, eventually forced to raise his hands in a bid to silence the roaring cheer. “I thank you, my people. Now, as I have sworn an oath to you, so I would have you swear an oath to Erebor. To vow to obey its laws and act as a worthy citizen. Will you so swear?”

“AYE!”

“Then repeat after me – For as long as I live Under the Mountain, I swear to obey the laws of Erebor as adjudicated by her sovereign. I will treat Erebor's citizens and guests with dignity and respect. Should I see someone engaged in wrongdoing, I will report it to the guard, for such actions harm all within the community. And while Erebor is being rebuilt, I shall lend such talents as I possess to the efforts without thought to self-aggrandizement, for a strong Mountain is benefit to us all. May Mahal witness my oath and keep me true,” Fíli recited in a clear voice with appropriate pauses to allow it to be repeated back.

This extraordinary oath, of service not to the King but to their home, was the result of Ori's hours of research in the Archives and many hours consultation with him and Balin both. Fíli hoped it would be a start to shifting ideals back to dwarven society as a clan, an extended family working together.

“Men of Laketown, as King I may now formally welcome you within the Mountain. I would ask that for such time as you live among us, you swear a similar vow to abide by our laws.”

Bard stepped forward then to address his folk. “I know you may have concerns for such an oath to be sworn to a foreign King, but I have spent much time with King Fíli, and their laws are very similar to our own. Those who agree to swear will be seen as equally bound and protected under the eyes of the law. Are you willing to so swear?”

An agreement followed, though less certain than that from the dwarves. Fíli repeated much the same oath for the Men as he had for his own people, though aid in rebuilding the Mountain was not included, and they swore by Eru rather than Mahal.

He only hoped that most of them intended to abide by their oaths. Nori would be making one of his first reports in his new position as Spymaster about those who did not swear or looked belligerent, though the crowd was too thick for him to catch them all. Kíli would fill in some of the gaps at least.

Fíli was beginning to freeze even in his furs, and envied those in the crowd the warmth from standing so close together. He sighed, two-thirds of the events of the day were still to come. Next, he would be swearing in what members of his Council he had chosen.

“Balin, son of Fundin, son of Farin, stand forth.”

The elderly councillor stepped forward and knelt before Fíli, who extended the hilt of his sword to the dwarrow who had served as one of his primary mentors. It was strange to have the transition out from under his mentorship in full view of others.

“What would you have me do, my King?”

“I am hereby appointing you to serve as Chief of my Council. Are you willing to accept this position?”

“I am honoured by the trust you have placed in me, my King. I, Balin, son of Fundin, son of Farin, accept the post of Chief of Council. My council will be given to uphold your rule to the best of my abilities and knowledge. I swear to be truthful and honourable in word and deed, even when my advice is not pleasing to be heard. I will be faithful to my sovereign. May Mahal strike me down if I prove false to you through word or deed,” Balin gave his solemn oath with his head bowed over the hilt of Fíli's sword.

“I thank you for your oath, Lord Balin. I look forward to hearing your council, and know that I believe you will always be truthful.” Fíli handed his sword off to Kíli for a moment so he could bend and assist Balin to his feet. “Rise, Lord Balin. You need never kneel to me again,” Fíli added with a grin.

Dís was the next called to take her oath as a member of the Council. If felt beyond strange for Fíli to be looking down on his _mother's_ bowed head as she knelt before him, but aside from that, the oath proceeded much the same as Balin's had.

“I thank you, Amad, for your willingness to serve as my advisor. Please, stand.” He offered his mother a hand, Kíli once again wordlessly knowing his need and holding his sword.

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, son of Farin, stand forth.”

“What would you have of me, my King?”

“I would appoint you to the position of Captain of the Guard, and Warmaster. Do you accept these positions of trust?”

“Of course, my King.” Without waiting to be asked, Dwalin knelt before Fíli; the burly warrior, even kneeling, came up near to his chin. “I, Dwalin, son of Fundin, son of Farin, am honoured to accept the positions of Captain of the Guard and Warmaster. Whether in times of battle or times of peace, I will stand as a bulwark between you, my sovereign, and those who would harm you. I vow to uphold the laws of your kingdom and guard those under your protection. My sword will be your shield, and I will defend your life with my own. If I fail to protect you-” and here Dwalin's voice faltered for a brief moment, “-I will avenge you upon your enemies. May mighty Mahal strike me down if I prove false to you through word and deed.”

“I accept your oath with gratitude, Lord Dwalin. Rise, and take your place at my back.”

Fíli concealed a sigh of relief that all that remained was gifting those who had come to their aid in the battle. He still was not accustomed to such prolonged periods acting as the centre of attention. At least he had Kíli, his brother letting him know with small touches throughout the ceremony that he was not alone.

With Kíli and Dwalin at his back, Fíli turned to the guests standing just before and to the side of the main body of dwarves. Seeing that one guest in particular would be unable to make it on to the dais, so he gestured for both dwarrow to follow him with the chests full of gifts. He stopped before a towering eagle.

“Gwaihir Windlord, I must thank you for coming to our aid. Not just at the recent battle, but on a clifftop outside of a goblin lair. Without your aid, the guest would have ended that very night. I do not know why you chose to come to the aid of strangers, but you have our everlasting gratitude.”

Turning away from the Eagle for a moment, Fíli opened the chest which Dwalin held, the weak winter sunlight gleaming off its contents. “I know this is poor recompense for all your help, but please, accept this as a token of the friendship I hope will form between our peoples.” Fíli held up a great golden chain set with expertly cut stones, primarily sapphire and moonstone. Kíli had taken the time to add fine engravings of wind and feathers to customize the piece.

The young King crooked a grin at the great golden-brown eagle who towered over him. “We had thought of a crown, but considered this might be more practical. We have similar anklets for the rest of your eyrie.”

Gwaihir's answer came remarkably clearly for a giant avian. “I appreciate your thanks, Fíli-King, but they are unnecessary. We eagles were sworn long ago to fight evil in all its forms, wherever it may be found.”

The great eagle craned his head and preened, cocking his head to better view the chain on his chest. “This is a magnificent piece. I thank you for the consideration shown in choosing it as a gift, it is a good sign for friendship to come. When we depart, I will leave you a means of getting in contact with us, should you need our aid once more.”

“Lord Gwaihir, that is a magnificent gesture. I thank you. Call upon us if ever you have need, and we will be honoured to return the aid which you have given us.”

Gwaihir spread his wings and swept a bow, which Fíli returned before turning to Beorn. This time the shapechanger was wearing his man's form rather than the bear.

“Beorn, you have come to our aid yet again, and saved both my life and that of my brother. And this in spite of the distaste you hold regarding dwarves. You have our everlasting gratitude, and I hope, friendship.” This time when Fíli opened the lid of the chest, it was not so bright. He presented both chest and contents to Beorn.

“These are but a small token, I hope you will find them of use. Dwarven-forged, they should never need repair or sharpening.”

A genuine smile creased the skinchanger's face as he withdrew the first item from the chest, a gardening trowel matched to his stature. Glóin and Dori had found the tools as they began the inventory of the Treasury.

“A worthy gift, Master Fíli,” Beorn rumbled. “I consider it a positive sign for your rule that you knew I would value these above gold or gems. Perhaps we will be friends after all.”

“Thanks you, Beorn, that is high praise indeed. If you ever had need, simply call and we will come.”

Exchanging bows with both Beorn and Gwaihir once more, Fíli made his way back onto the dais. The other rulers had already received their gifts and thanks, so there was only one left to recognize.

“Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, stand forth, Master Burglar!”

Their hobbit stepped forward hesitantly, for Fíli had not warned him this was coming for fear of his employment of his talent for vanishing.

“Master Baggins, of all those folk whom we have cause to thank for aiding us on this quest, you have done the most to see us to this day.” Fíli made a quarter turn to address the crowd while still facing Bilbo. “I wish to set the record straight. As King Under the Mountain, I officially lift the banishment rumoured to have been enacted upon Bilbo Baggins. He is welcome to remain in Erebor for as long as he pleases, and to come and go freely. My Uncle, Mahal rest him, was not in his right mind when he named Master Baggins a traitor. Our hobbit shall henceforth be known as a dwarf-friend, and honoured for his unflinching eye for the truth.

“Bilbo, we owe you more than we can ever repay. I am sorry for any callous disregard we held you in on our journey. While we can clearly no long how to the original agreement of one-fourteenth share, is there anything you would ask of us?”

“Oh-uh-really now,” Bilbo stammered, “truly, Master Fíli, you know I did not do any of that out of desire of a reward.” The hobbit flushed and scuffed a large foot across the boards. “I just wanted to save my friends.”

Bilbo's head shot up like a startled rabbit when the crowd roared in approval of his words.

“I suppose, if I were to ask for anything, it would be a plot for a garden on the side of the mountain. Also an escort back to the Shire in the spring to retrieve some of my furniture and other belongings, if I am to be living in Erebor.”

Fíli could swear he hear him mutter something about “ _let's see Lobelia try to pocket my spoons_ then.”

Another whoop of excitement rang out, this time from the Company, with this announcement. From the corner of his eye, Fíli could see many of them straining as if holding themselves back, likely from rushing the dais to mob their hobbit in a group embrace. In turn, the hobbit grinned back at their companions, though his eyes definitely lingered on one miner in particular.

“I believe we can manage that, Bilbo,” Fíli smiled. “Your continuing friendship is an honour.”

“The honour is mine, your Majesty.” Bilbo swept an unexpectedly courtly bow. Breaking his kingly distance, Fíli clapped him on the shoulder.

“I thank you my people, my guests, for attending this day. This evening, once we all have had the opportunity to change, and to warm up-” this provoked a few chuckles, “-I invite you all to join in my coronation feast.”

A final cheer and it was over. The various peoples began filing into Erebor or their camps at the mountain's foot. And Fíli stood alone as King.

He amended that last thought as Kíli's hand landed on his shoulder. Not _entirely_ alone.

“Come on, sannadad. You had a pretty good idea with that _warming up_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] sun-brother
> 
> [2] my sons
> 
> [3] son of Dís
> 
> [4] Durin's folk


	27. One Year On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili watches as Fili prepares to be crowned before the returned exiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of this story at last, but don't worry, this is not the end. My stupid brain decided to start thinking about how King Fili and Kili would change the history of Middle Earth. I am going to be continuing this series through the War of the Ring, and I'll try to have a preview of the first chapter up within the week.
> 
> Thanks to Professor Tolkien for some of the descriptions of Gandalf's fireworks within this chapter. And thank you to all of my readers who have either just found this story or stuck with it from the beginning. I've loved hearing from you all. I hope you enjoy this epilogue.

Kíli sighed as he watched Fíli pace in front of their fireplace muttering to himself. It had become a common sight in the past year, when he was stressed or had a problem to solve; but today was worse than usual. After a week of memorials which had begun on Durin's Day, it was Fíli's coronation.

“Razdûn-e, I don't know why you are so overwrought. You've already _been_ King for a year. Today is simply a formality so those from  Thorinuldûm [1] have the opportunity to see you crowned.”

Fíli whirled, eyes wild and hair more tangled than he ever allowed it to become when at home. “But that's _why_ I'm nervous. You _know_ I changed the coronation oath after Ori's research on Durin. What if they will not accept me as King?”

This question had Kíli sliding off the furs to catch his brother in his arms. He looked deep within beloved blue eyes as he answered. “If anyone attempts to say 'nay', I would wager that their neighbour will knock them senseless before they can finish.”

Fíli snorted.

“It's true, nadad. You know Nori has me going out disguised to keep abreast of feelings within the kingdom. You are _beloved_ , my King. You are one of the heroes who reclaimed Erebor for your people, nephew and chosen heir to Thorin Oakenshield, the dwarrow who kept us united through exile and had the vision to believe that reclaiming the mountain was not unachievable.

“There are some critics of course, but I would be more alarmed if there were none at all.”

“ _That_ is Nori speaking,” Fíli retorted.

“Maybe so, but I am not wrong, Fí. Today will proceed just as your battlefield coronation did, only easier, for you have already done it once before. In fact, I do not believe that a 'nay' would be able to unseat you. You have already been acclaimed by Dáin's warriors, claiming your throne by right of blood and valour.”

It was Fíli's turn to sigh, dropping his head forward onto Kíli's shoulder. The brunet dropped a kiss onto his brother's thick sunshine hair.

“I know, Kí, you're right. I just – I cannot calm my nerves. I feel as tightly-wound as your bowstring; these are _our_ people, the ones we were raised among. If anyone has the right to judge whether I am fit to rule, it is them.”

Kíli could hear the self-doubt in his lover's voice and ached that Fíli could still hold such fears. “Or simply hold to long-formed assumptions,” he muttered, having suffered under their rigid adherence to old traditions.

Shaking himself as if surfacing from a deep pool, he turned his attention back to his brother. Fíli had already done much in his first year as King to endear himself to their people. In Kíli's - possibly biased - opinion, he would be remembered as one of the great rulers of their folk. If only he could do something to convince Fíli of that in the long-term. At least he had an idea for the time being...

“Strip for me, Fí,” he commanded.

“Wh-wh-a-t?” Fíli stuttered in shock.

“C'mon, Fí, trust me?” Kíli gave his brother the smile that he _knew_ made the blond melt. “I will surrender if what I have in mind does not leave you bonelessly relaxed by the end.”

He could see the moment Fíli conceded by the slump of his shoulders. “You know I trust you, nadad.”

“Then strip.” He suited actions to his own words, quickly peeling off the clothing he had worn to breakfast and sauntering to their bathing room. Sneaky glances behind told him Fíli was following, eyes glued to his backside.

Fortunately some miracle of dwarven engineering kept the water in their bathing pool fresh and hot. Kíli made some show of testing the temperature before pointing at it and ordering 'in'. The commands were another part of his plan. He had observed in their explorations of sex that Fíli became more pliant and relaxed when Kíli's tone turned more demanding, and he still preferred to bottom. Already he could see the effect his tone was having on a certain part of Fíli's anatomy.

Kíli was hopeful that in following his orders, Fíli would be able to relax and distance his mind from the ever-present weight of Kingship.

He smiled to himself to see that Fíli was relaxing already as he eased his way into the steaming pool. A quick moment to gather a few supplies, and Kíli was joining him. They sat in silence for a long time as both soaked in the warmth and vapours, sinking lower into the water as it dissolved tension from tightly coiled muscles.

“You know,” Kíli was the first to break the hush, “we've been in Erebor for a full year now, and yet I still believe that the baths are still my favourite part.”

Fíli snorted a laugh, so low in the water that bubbles streamed from the end of his long nose.

“Come here, razdûn-nadad. Let me wash and braid that sunshine hair for you.”

The blond flushed, but complied easily enough. Kíli caught his low mutter of “you _had_ to remind me of the first time we bathed here, didn't you?” as Fíli settled into place before him.

“I still remember that day fondly, and not simply because of the sexual intimacy.”

“Me too.”

They lapsed into a comfortable, familiar silence as Kíli began lathering Fíli's thick waves. He grinned as his ministrations almost had Fíli purring under his hands, the low groans and growls more than enough to have his member filling. Time enough for that later, for the moment it was enough to reduce Fíli to a puddle of sensation.

When the thick mane was as clean and lathered as it was conceivably going to get, Kíli sighed in slight resignation. He enjoyed washing Fíli's hair almost as much as Fíli enjoyed having his hair washed. Pulling his fingers out was greeted with a groan of disapproval. “Time to rinse, nadad.”

As Fíli ducked his hair under the water, Kíli supported his neck with a hand as the other gently combed through to ensure the soap rinsed clear. His thick waves spread out in the pool like strands of gingery seaweed. When he surfaced, Fíli appeared more settled in his skin.

Raking a comb carefully through to detangle the heavy mass was also something Kíli drew out. Long practice meant he could smooth the thick waves, knots and all, within ten minutes; but he had also drawn it out into hours. In contrast, the braids were finished as quickly as he could plait them; both because the King's pattern would remind Fíli of the day, and because Kíli was more that a little impatient to move on to the next part of his plan.

While Fíli was performing his usual check that all his braids were in and felt correctly placed, Kíli made a thick pad on the edge of the bath from the towels he had pulled out earlier.

“Lie on this, face down and waist bent over the edge of the pool,” Kíli commanded.

“Kí...?” Fíli began a question, but Kíli cocked a stern eyebrow and Fíli did as ordered. “I feel absurd,” he complained.

Kíli laughed. “Trust me, Fí. What I'm about to do won't feel absurd at all.” They had never done this together before, and it was not something he had ever desired to perform on any other partner. But Fíli...well, he had heard it felt marvellous, and he was always looking for new ways to pleasure his lover. “And you look gorgeous, as always. I never tire of seeing you spread out for me like this.”

He was never so glad that his brother had fair skin as when Fíli was nude and blushing. It gave his skin the most beautiful red flush all the way down to his rosy cheeks.

“Kí-i,” Fíli whined, wiggling under the hands massaging the firm muscles of his rear, “it's embarrassing when you say things like that.”

“I did not think you would be so embarrassed when only truth is spoken. I have never seen a lovelier dwarrow.” Kíli leaned forward, using his taller stature to enable him to drop a trail of kisses down Fíli's back. The light touch of his lips and the damp ends of his hair sent a delicious frission through the skin.

Kissing down each knob of Fíli's spine, feeling his solid bulk quake under his hands, Kíli felt powerful as he never did in any other aspect of his life. That Fíli would simply lie there and shiver under his touch... Kíli pressed words into the skin with every motion. “I-love-you-atamanel. Gorgeous-perfect-radiant-razdûn-nadad. You-are-all-I-will-ever-desire-or-need.”

Fíli was panting under his touch by the time Kíli reached the bottom of his spine. The brunet grinned to himself as he used his hold on the firm swells of Fíli's bottom to expose his pucker. Kíli's next kiss landed directly on that tight furl, and he chuckled at Fíli's startled squeak of reaction. His brother's hips bucked as though unsure whether to push _in_ to the feeling, or pull away.

Charitable, Kíli flattened his tongue over the same place and licked. Obviously if Fíli was unsure, he simply needed more information. With that in mind, he set to work with a will, kissing and licking as Fíli writhed under his hands; listening all the while for Fíli to call a halt.

Delicious moans and gasps fell from the blond's parted lips, but not once a word telling Kíli to cease or even slow his actions. Still, Kíli felt the need to check in before continuing.

“Is this ok?”

“More than ok,” Fíli gasped, “if you stop, I might be forced to kill you. I was unsure at first...but _by the Maker_ that feels incredible.”

Rather than reply, Kíli resumed lapping over Fíli's hole enthusiastically. He delighted in Fíli squirming under his hands; it usually took longer to make his stoic brother lose his composure so thoroughly. That alone was more than enough reason for Kíli to disregard just where he was putting his mouth, and the saliva dripping from his chin. Curious, now that the rim was opening under his attentions, he tried sucking on it as he often did on Fíli's full lower lip. The blond whined, high and sharp and needy, pushing his hips back into Kíli's mouth.

“Fuck, Kí, don't stop,” Fíli breathed.

Kíli hummed in response, pleased, but he had not anticipated the effect those vibrations would have on his lover. Fíli screamed as he came, hips bucking hard as his seed spilled across the towels.

Startled but not a little proud of himself, Kíli pulled back to run his hands across Fíli's heaving back, glistening with sweat and ruining the effects of their recent bath. His tawny braids were dishevelled from his head tossing back and forth as he writhed. It seemed Kíli would need to redo his recent work, but not before he finished driving his King out of his mind until nothing but pleasure remained.

“You alright, Fí?” Kíli asked after minutes passing with no movement from him save for his breathing.

A low, wordless whimper was the first answer to his question. When he persisted, Fíli continued, “I feel...I'm floating, feels so good.”

“Think you can make it to the bed? It will be more comfortable than resting here, and I'm not finished with you yet...”

A groan came from Fíli as he wiggled in complaint. Since he seemed only unwilling rather than incapable, Kíli changed his tone.

“Get up and get on the bed.”

He could hear the tiny moan from Fíli as he responded to the note of command in Kíli's voice. He might be rushing Fíli a little, but now that he was no longer concentrated so entirely on Fíli's pleasure, his own cock reminding him how long it had gone neglected, and how arousing every noise and movement Fíli made had been.

Stepping out of the bath at last, Kíli ignored the effect the water had on his toes and dried off perfunctorily before helping Fíli to his feet. His damp towel served well to wipe away the seed smeared across Fíli's belly. From there, it was easy to assist his shaky-legged brother over to their bed. Fíli wasted no time in toppling over onto soft furs.

Kíli smiled fondly down at his brother, brushing sweat damp hair off his face. “Are you still alright, Fí?”

Blue eyes blinked up at him, hazy with pleasure and contentment, “of course, nadad.”

“Mahal, I love you so much.”

“Love you too, kandûn.”

Some of his urgency dissipated as he sat there, stroking tenderly over beautiful honey locks and his lightly freckled shoulders. They remained in comfortable silence until Kíli saw a little more clarity return to Fíli's eyes.

“Can I keep going?”

“Of course?” Fíli's voice was puzzled, as he tilted his head in question as to why Kíli would ask if he could keep petting him. Clarity dawned a beat later “Ohhh...” His eyes flicked down to where Kíli's shaft still stood proudly, hard despite the lull. “I'll be ready to go again by the time you finish preparing me.”

Kíli grinned like a dwarfling granted a prized treat. One of his favourite discoveries over the past year with Fíli was that his lover was one of those who could come twice in short succession. Earlier urgency renewed, he moved quickly to finish setting the scene.

Fíli grumbled, but moved under his prodding to the very edge of the bed so the brunet could smooth flat the thick sheet they used to spare the furs from frequent washing. Retrieving their oil, Kíli lingered over the small collection of toys they had built, but this day seemed more an occasion for skin on skin. He wanted to reaffirm their closeness and connection. Whatever may come from this final confirmation of Fíli's status as King, Kíli would promise him through touch that it would alter _nothing_ between them.

“Would you turn face down again, Fí? I never quite finished everything I wanted to try before.”

A long groan escaped the blond as he complied, already thrusting his bottom into the air at what Kíli had implied. The archer held a groan of his own deep in his chest at the sight of his brother so eager. Even a year later, he still could not quite believe that this beautiful dwarrow had wanted him _back_. He had almost resigned himself to declaring as craft-wed; for if he had told Fíli that the one his heart had chosen did not desire him in return, Fíli would have wanted to know who and why. He would not have hurt his beloved brother in that way for all the gold in Arda. When Fíli had begun showing what seemed to be signs of returned interest on the quest, Kíli had done his best to convince himself it was merely promptings from his lovesick heart. It had taken all of his courage to kiss Fíli that day but the Front Gate, his throat too tight with hopeful tension to speak past the block in his throat. His heart nearly turned to stone in his chest when Fíli did not respond, and he felt as if he was soaring on the back of an eagle once more when Fíli kissed him back.

And beyond that, he never would have dreamed that his confident, knowledgeable, perfect elder brother would ever find being on the bottom so pleasurable, much less be aroused by submitting. Kíli had, in his few imaginings of what it would actually be like if Fíli loved him back, believed that they would switch more or less equally. Fíli always wanted things to be equitable between the two of them whenever possible, ever conscious of his greater status in the eyes of most.

All told, it made Kíli want to worship him as much as he possibly could. Dropping the oil by Fíli's hip for later, he set to doing just that.

Fíli gasped sharply when Kíli's tongue lapped over his pucker with no warning. That might have ended their fun right there had Kíli not already been holding Fíli's hips down, halting their powerful instinctive movement from breaking his nose.

“Damn, Kí! A little warning?” Fíli laughed breathlessly.

The brunet grinned. “That wouldn't be nearly as much fun.” He promptly blew a stream of cool air across the spit-slick muscle, sending a quake up Fíli's spine. Before Fíli could complain, he latched his mouth onto the rim and Fíli's words hitched on a whimper.

Settling on to his stomach on the bed, Kíli changed to swirling his tongue around the ring and stroking over Fíli's perineum with a thumb, the probing softer and harder, testing the give of the muscle. When Fíli had relaxed enough, he slipped the tip of his tongue inside and listed for the reaction. Fíli did not disappoint.

“What? Ohhh, Kí, you...” his words trailed off into a moan when Kíli curled the tip of his tongue to tug along the inside of the rim.

Unconsciously, Kíli found himself humming again as he speared into Fíli with his tongue, alternating between fucking it in to him and tugging or sucking at his entrance. Watching Fíli shiver and quake and moan under his hands was almost as good as receiving pleasure himself.

At last Fíli's hand swiped back blindly to tap him on the head. Or, well, that was what Kíli thought he had intended. Instead he narrowly avoided getting one of Fíli's fingers right in his eye.

“Stop, please. If you keep going, I'm going to come sooner than either of us wants.”

Kíli sat back on his heels and swiped a hand over his chin to wipe away the saliva. “But you liked it?”

“Liked it?” Fíli laughed a little incredulously. “I think that's more than a small understatement, amrâl. You're going to have to avoid my pleasure spot entirely if you don't want to set me off before you can fuck me.”

The brunet hummed a little, considering it. Fíli looked so lovely spread out on the bed, sunshine hair forming a puddle around his head, back glistening with sweat, and his hole already red and puffy, soaked with Kíli's saliva. One finger trailed through the slick up from Fíli's sac and dipped inside his pucker just to watch him shake. Kíli could easily watch his brother fall apart around his fingers as he took himself in hand. Just thinking of his seed spattered across Fíli's milky skin...

But no. Kíli retrieved the oil bottle and breathed deep as the earthy, sharp scent of pine mingled with the musk of sex and sweat in the room. He slicked up his hand with the viscous liquid, knowing Fíli was already open enough to easily accommodate two fingers. He wanted to feel his brother, his lover, his _King_ shatter apart around his cock that day. For Fíli to know that he could trust Kíli not only to see him broken down, but also to help him back together once more.

“I love you so much, Fíli,” Kíli scattered kisses across his back, tasting salt as his fingers quickly worked Fíli open. “Promise me I can always love you like this.”

“I would not know how to live any other way, Kíli. I can scarcely remember a time without you in my life, I would not have that change.”

Somehow, Kíli found himself kissing over Fíli's scars, memories of times when he had come so very close to losing Fíli. However, many of them also served as reminders that they were stronger together. His free hand traced over the odd half-circular hatched pattern left by the rings of Fíli's chainmail. It had become one of his favourites to trace, the feeling of his callused fingertips stroking over the curious texture never failing to arouse Fíli.

After a year, Kíli was well acquainted with the signs that Fíli was ready for him and wasted not a second more. He slicked up his cock and sunk home slowly, lowering himself until he was lying flush with Fíli's back. Reaching up to where Fíli's hands lay under his head, he laced their fingers together, stretching to sink them into soft furs. Every inch of skin possible was connected, Kíli's lanky form almost enveloping his brother's.

Fíli whimpered in pleasure at being so connected and controlled. He could barely move underneath Kíli, but it was a comfort rather than a threat.

“Fuck, Fí, you feel incredible. You're always so hot and tight around me. It's like you were made for me.” Kíli swivelled his hips, enjoying the moan that rumbled through his chest from his brother, close as they were, and the feeling of his cock dragging against the blond's inner walls. “Or maybe I was made for you. Surely Mahal carved us from the same stone, for us to mesh together as gears in clockwork.”

“I love that idea, kandûn. I cannot picture joining like this with anyone else.”

Kíli began moving slowly, not so much thrusting as grinding in deep to hear the stuttered moans he forced out of Fíli every time he brushed past his pleasure spot. He was having a difficult time holding back. He'd been on edge for such a long time he was more than tempted to simply pound into Fíli until he came, but a larger part desired to feel his brother come just from the feeling of his cock inside him. He knew Fíli could do it, could feel that Fíli was already close. He just needed to stay in control for long enough to push his brother over the edge.

“You like that, amrâl? Like feeling me thick and hot and deep?”

“Nnngh, yessss,” Fíli hissed, “feels so good, harder, Kí?”

“Like this?” Kíli pulled out until just the tip of his shaft stretched Fíli open, and allowed his own weight to carry him down. The choked whine and Fíli's muscles clenching around him told him he'd hit his mark.

“More, please, I need to come.”

Kíli chuckled a little breathlessly. “You asked for it, nadad.” He pushed up enough on to his knees to have more leverage and began a brutal pace, driving into Fíli over and over as the blond bucked up into his thrusts as much as he could. He panted as he bit at Fíli's ears and neck, only just remembering not to leave marks where they could be seen.

“Mahal, Fíli, you're so stunning. I want to mark you up and have you go out in front of all of our people, show them you might be King, but you're also _mine_.”

“Yes, Ki, yours. Always yours,” Fíli whimpered.

“Going to come inside you, fill you up. Should I leave you messy? So you have to stand up there as you feel my seed leak from your hole? Or should I plug you up so you can feel me inside you the whole time? Then I could bring you back here after and fuck you while you're still slick and open.”

Fíli was beyond words, moaning and writhing from the pounding he was getting and Kíli's filthy whispers in his ear.

“Do you like that idea? C'mon, amrâl, come for me. I want to see you fall apart.”

The blond obeyed with a wail, body going rigid as he spent his climax across the sheets. The convulsions of his inner walls set Kíli off in a chain reaction, thrusting once - twice more before he peaked. He muffled his groan into the back of Fíli's neck as his vision went white.

Coming back to himself but too fucked out and happy to really bother moving, Kíli kissed across Fíli's shoulders as his lips brushed praises into fair skin.

“Mahal, Fí, thank you. You were so good, razdûn-nadad. Wish we could stay connected like this forever.”

Fíli stretched out under him and groaned contentedly. “I should be thanking you, kandûn-ê. You did exactly as you promised to. I'm so relaxed I can scarcely bear to move.”

Kíli hummed in lazy agreement and absently glanced out the window they had discovered after moving in to their chambers. They must have been occupied longer than Kíli had realized, for the sun had just been cresting the horizon when they had broken their fast. Now, from the light, it seemed only an hour before it vanished from the sky, and that left them with little time to prepare. Fíli was to be crowned with the appearance of the stars, as had been tradition since Durin's vision in Kheled-zâram.[2]

“Kakhfar![3] Fí, we must get up! We have little time before you are expected in the Hall of the King!” Kíli began to ease himself gingerly off of his brother, but was halted by Fíli's hand on his thigh.

“Wait.”

“Fí?”

The blond head turned to present his profile, but Fíli would not meet Kíli's eyes. Kíli watched as a bright flush spread across Fíli's cheeks and the bridge of his nose, out to his ears. He could tell it extended yet father, for he could feel the heat under his chest.

“Would you – the plug?”

Kíli was dumbfounded. “Fíli...are you certain? I was simply caught up in the moment, you need not feel obligated.”

“I know. But I want it. I wish to feel you inside me while I stand before our people.” Fíli finally glanced up to give him a sheepish grin. “It is not a conventional way to know I have your support, but I want it.”

“Of course, my King. Anything for you.”

He cautiously pulled out of Fíli with a hiss and halted the blond when he made to follow. “Remain this way, nadad, if you wish to keep my seed inside of you.”

Fíli blushed even more brilliantly, but Kíli saw him lift his bottom higher, nevertheless. Chuckling silently to himself, Kíli reluctantly turned his attention away for a moment to study their toy drawer. They had acquired a few plugs, but the one he chose in the end was a moderately sized bulb of blue glass. Just big enough that Fíli would not forget it was there, but hopefully not so large that it would create a noticeable alteration of his gait.

The blond's eyes lit up when he saw it, enough confirmation he had made the correct choice. Kíli slicked the smooth surface with oil, but paused with the tip just pressing against Fíli's hole. “Are you certain of this, Fí? We have never done anything quite like this before... You will not be able to pause and remove it should you become uncomfortable.”

“I love you for your concern, but my decision is made. Now stick it in me already,” heat surged through Kíli when he waggled his bottom at him, “we have a ceremony to prepare for.”

Kíli laughed and gave Fíli a teasing smack on his bottom. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips at the sight of a thin trickle of his seed spilling from Fíli's entrance. Without entirely conscious choice, he reached out to push his slick back in with his free hand. The other gently nudged the plug into position, Fíli eagerly pushing back into his hands. Kíli slowly eased the plug into Fíli, watching in awe as his rim flared open around the glass. He paused for a moment when it reached the widest part as twisted to watch Fíli shudder from the feeling of the slick glass gliding inside him. Then Fíli's hips twitched up and his hole closed around the stem of the plug.

He gave his brother a few moments to savour the feeling before shoving him onto his side. “Time to get up, nadad. We should rinse off all this sweat and spend before I fix your braids.”

____________________

Kíli stepped back and surveyed Fíli up and down. From his neat honey and ginger braids down to his finely tooled boots, Fíli appeared every inch of the warrior King. In a departure from the cumbersome robes favoured by elder dwarves, Kíli had made his brother a coat very similar to the one he had worn on the quest. This one however was the proper Durin blue, appropriate for the new King of the Sigin-târag. He walking around his brother slowly, appreciating the way Fíli's broad shoulders filled out the leather, and the sigil he had tooled into the leather. From under the coat peeked the edges of the dun tunic Dori had made, embroidered with his sigil in a shade only just lighter than the fabric.

“Mahal, you are the most handsome dwarrow I have ever seen.”

Fíli chuckled nervously and ducked his head, still unsure how to react to such open compliments when not engaged in seeking pleasure.

As they still had a few moments before Fíli's honour guard arrived to escort him, Kíli took stock of his own attire. His charcoal leather coat was cut in much the same fashion as Fíli's, but came only to the elbow and lacked the fur trim, to accommodate his archery. Like his brother, he wore his sword scabbarded across his back, but on this day they were intended as ceremonial only. It would be poor form indeed to carry his bow on a day such as this, or to draw his sword in all but the most dire circumstances. Should Fíli come under attack, Kíli would be using the dozens of small, flat throwing knives tucked into sheaths in his coat. He grinned ruefully. Fíli might have taught him how to throw, but it was Nori's training in spycraft which turned him into a hedgehog like his brother.

Sighing, Kíli tried to run his hand through his hair but was foiled by the braids he'd allowed Fíli to plait in. It was his sincere hope he would not be forced to bare a single blade today in defense of his King. Not simply because he would not see Fíli come to any harm either. Being King might not be what Fíli had wished for, but he was determined to be a good one. Being attacked at his coronation would be a blow to Fíli's already shaky confidence in his ability to rule.

He spoke none of his concerns to Fíli however. His brother had enough to worry about with the ceremony. Nevermind the honour guard, Kíli and Dwalin would be his true guardians near the throne, and Nori would be watching from the crowd.

Instead, he moved to kneel before his brother and grasped his hands within his own. Kíli stared up into Fíli's blue eyes and watched as his brow furrowed in confusion at first, but cleared in dawning realization.

“One year ago, I swore to be your faithful support as you prepared to take your place as King. Today, with more knowledge as to what that means, I promise you that I still hold to that vow. Amrâl, I believe you to be the King our people need. You are willing to work with other peoples to make life safer for us all. If Galadriel saw true, we will need that in times to come.”

Kíli felt his own eyes respond to the sheen of tears that had begun to appear in Fíli's, and laughed to stop himself from crying. “None of that, nadad. Your honour guard will be here any moment, and we cannot be blubbering like fools when they arrive.”

As he had intended, his words provoked a twitch of a smile from Fíli.

“I suppose not. Gimli would never allow us to live it down.”

As if on cue, a heavy hand pounded on the door to their chambers, and their younger cousin's voice could be heard, though muffled by the thick wood. “Are you ready, Fí-your Majesty?”

Kíli snorted softly at the brief stumble, content that Gimli would not be able to hear him. He had accidentally caught Glóin drilling his son in the formalities that would be required early that week. It seemed Gimli had already forgotten.

When he resumed speaking, Gimli's tones were stilted and formal, as if reciting words from a page. “Your guard had arrived, and we would be pleased to escort you to the Hall of Kings. It is our honour to have been chosen for this sacred duty, and we swear before Mahal to discharge it faithfully.”

“I am ready,” Fíli called back loudly, offering a hand to lift Kíli to his feet. More quietly, he said, “I must thank you, nadadel, for your continual support. You are the deep-rooted tree I lean upon, and it means more than I can say that you do so unflinching. Now, shall we go and take this next step together?”

“Together,” Kíli agreed, delighted that he was able to be more than a shadow as the second prince under the rule of his sunshine King. Like the faithful guardian he was, Kíli was the one to open the door and ensure that the guards were who they expected before allowing Fíli to pass through.

Most of the eight dwarves in the honour guard were those they had known back in the Ered Luin, but some few were Dáin's warriors met on work crews. Contrary to tradition many were young, around the same age as Fíli and Kíli themselves, Bifur being the obvious exception. Also unusual was that most would not be considered nobleborn. But they were all dwarves who Fíli liked and trusted, a far more suitable metric in Kíli's eyes.

The long and winding walk to the Hall of Kings passed mostly in silence. Ordinarily, Fíli would take the much more direct passageway from the Royal Wing to the back of the Hall, but as it was his coronation he must enter from the front. Kíli and Bifur exchanged quiet chatter as they walked. From their expressions, the other members of the guard were too focused on doing their duty, and Fíli still nervous about what was to come.

Technically, as second Prince and Fíli s heir, Kíli should already have been at the throne with the other members of the Council, but Fíli had asked him to stay by his side. The vice-grip Fíli had on his hand was evidence of how much he was needed.

Once they reached the entrance, Kíli was forced to disentangle his hand and took his proper place, standing a step behind and to Fíli's left. Even not as the centre of attention, it was overwhelming when Indra and Haemar opened the great doors and all eyes fixed on Fíli for the long walk up the raised centre aisle to the throne. Balin was waiting there for Kíli's brother, as the Chief Councillor would be the one to crown Fíli that day.

When he tried to recall it later, Kíli would remember little of the ceremony itself. He was proud of Fíli, of course, and struck all over again by how handsome and regal his brother was. But most of his time was hazed over by his anxiety, his eyes darting to every movement in the crowd looking for a threat. The last of the caravans of the exiles had arrived at Erebor only that week, and he and Nori had not yet had the opportunity to assess the loyalties of the returnees. It made for a tense day, the whole population of Erebor, plus guests, all crammed into one room. If someone wanted to make a bold statement...well, the coronation would be the place to do it.

The feast which followed was similarly tense, watching to ensure none had the opportunity to poison Fíli's food or drink. Kíli himself took scarcely a bite, his nerves unsettling his stomach. It was fortunate, he reflected, that for once Fíli was distracted by all the well-wishers who came to speak to him; some clearly already angling for royal favours. He was proud to see Fíli greet them all graciously while refusing to make any promises. All the work his brother had put in to make Thorin proud, to be a good heir, it had clearly been worth the effort. Though none those seeking out the King received much more than pleasantries, they all left with a smile. Kíli's only sense of amusement was watching Fíli shift, knowing the plug would be tormenting him in the most pleasurable way. He would be so slick inside, hot and wet... Kíli found himself rocking forward in an attempt to conceal his aching arousal.

It was not until the feast dispersed outside with the promise of Gandalf's fireworks that Kíli was able to relax. Fíli remained seated until the last of the revellers cleared the feast hall, his honour guard and Dwalin remaining with the brothers. They all walked together, but before they reached the Front Gate, Kíli grasped Fíli's elbow and tugged him aside. When the guards startled, he waved them off.

“Go, enjoy the show. I'll watch over our King.”

He pulled Fíli behind him until they reached the high overlook they had used the year before.

“Kíli! I should be down with the others! What will our guests think of me?” Fíli scolded lightly.

“They will think that you are taking advantages of the privileges of rank,” Kíli indicated the vista below with a sweep of his arm. “We will have the best seats for the spectacle to come. And I spoke to Gandalf in advance, he knows we're up here.” Remembering something as he watched families laying out blankets below, Kíli retrieved the pack he had stashed there before breakfast. “We've even got blankets.”

Fíli laughed merrily, dimples deepening, and conceded. “All right, amrâl. You've got me all to yourself.”

Grinning widely, Kíli shook out the first blanket and laid it around his own shoulders. Fíli pouted up at him until Kíli settled comfortably against an outcropping of the mountain and beckoned his brother to join him.

Snorting, Fíli shifted back to join him. “I see your plan now, Ki.”

“Ah, yes. My wicked plan to get you alone and cuddle.” Kíli wrapped his arm around Fíli's broad shoulders and nosed into Fíli's thick mane. His brother always smelled so _good_. Forge fire, leather, and his own natural musk.

So lost was Kíli in feeling Fíli warm and solid in his arms and in breathing his familiar scent that he startled violently at the first high whistle and loud 'bang'. His mouth twisted wryly when Fíli near doubled over in silent laughter. Ordinarily, he would poke fun at Fíli in return, but the glowing sparks which rained down from Gandalf's first firework. It was like nothing he had ever seen before – sparks not from a forge or battle, but a beautiful burst of light in the sky.

The first few fireworks came in simple explosions of colour, which were wondrous enough. Glancing over at Fíli, his laughing delighted face turned up to watch the show and bathed in the coloured lights. His brother looked carefree, in a way as had become more and more rare since he had reached his majority. Kíli would have been content simply to watch his brother, but Gandalf's artistry called his attention back to the display.

The very next burst of sparks transformed into a flock of silvery birds which sang sweetly, spiralling through the sky in a glittering cloud which flew behind the mountain and vanished. Even from where they sat, Fíli and Kíli could hear the wondering gasps from those gathered below. There were green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves opened like a whole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down upon the astonished dwarves and men, disappearing with a sweet scent just before they touched their upturned faces. They were fountains of butterflies that landed upon the rocks of the Mountain, fanning their wings before melting into the stone; there were pillars of coloured fires that rose and turned into wolves, or ravens, or a phalanx of flying swans; there was a red thunderstorm and a shower of copper rain; there was a forest of silver spears which sprang suddenly into the air with a triumphant shout, and came down again to extinguish themselves in the River Running with a satisfied sigh.

Gandalf had a few final surprises in store for the young King and a few of their unexpected allies in the major battles the year before. A piercing whistle announced the first, which began as a bright glow in the sky and unfolded into a magnificent scintillating golden sun. So real did it seem that Kíli swore he could feel the heat of a summer's day. The next moment a cloud of smoke passed before it, and when it cleared, the sun was gone.

It was followed by a great fiery plume, out of which wandered an enormous brown bear, down to the very last detail a double for Beorn. The bear rose onto his hind legs and bellowed his challenge to the skies. All around him sprang up a pine forest of glittering green sparks, and dropping down onto his forepaws before walking into the trees and fading away. But down over the pines swooped a convocation of great gold and brown eagles. They stooped down upon the trees, flaring their wings and voicing triumphant shrieks. In pairs, the eagles swept away in opposite directions before coming together in magnificent bursts of sparks in front of the moon. At the last, only one eagle was left, marked at Gwaihir the Windlord by the shadow of a necklace he wore. He gave one last cry and dissolved into a shower of feathers which drifted down to the stone below.

Tharkûn's [4] fireworks had evoked a deep sense of wonder in Kíli, awe at the beauty the wizard could create. It was the first beauty in Erebor he had seen which was untainted by the memory of Thorin's madness and death. With Fíli warm and safe in his arms, he could ask for little more.

Kíli found himself saying aloud, “it's not home, but perhaps it's enough.”

“We'll make it great again,” Fíli vowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Thorin's Halls
> 
> [2] Mirrormere, where Durin saw herself crowned with seven stars
> 
> [3] shit: lit. supreme excrement
> 
> [4] Gandalf

**Author's Note:**

> I will be updating the tags for this story as new chapters are posted. Come drop me a line on my tumblr [thecopperriver](%E2%80%9Dthecopperriver.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) if you have questions about the story or just want to chat. If you have any concerns about things that might occur, just send me an ask. I would be happy to answer any asked off anon privately, so as not to spoil things for anyone else.


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